A Drop in the Ocean
by DayStorm
Summary: On a cool autumn night, Allison Argent died on the end of a katana. She slipped away, cradled in the arms of the wolf who loved her. She could not stay, but finding peace is nowhere near as easy as just letting go. STORY TEMPERARILY ON HOLD. Sorry everyone. I'm working on my The Originals fic right now. :) But by all means, enjoy this story up to where I left off. :)
1. Prologue - Demon's Katana

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:** _Hey, all! :) This is the second Teen Wolf fanfic I've written and I look forward to seeing how well this one turns out. I hope some of you who followed "Green Eyes" will eventually find your way here, because I __**do**__ think this story will live up to its predecessor's success. To be clear, this story is NOT a continuation of the other one. It's a whole new fanfiction that I drafted; mostly from of a combination of boredom and that first small flicker of inspiration (I'm sure you all know what I mean lol)._

_Also, I'd like to add that even though Allison was the protagonist in my former story AND she's the main character in this one too, I'm not Allison-obsessed. It just happened that way._

_Best,_

_DayStorm_

**Prologue**

**DEMON'S KATANA**

* * *

Grief is the price we pay for love.

– **Queen Elizabeth II**

* * *

It didn't seem fair.

To have come so far, to have already survived so many times when she knew she shouldn't have. And then to have it all end like this . . . no. It wasn't fair. It wasn't even unfair. It was cruel. Allison felt the tears burn in her eyes as she slowly, slowly dropped to the pavement. Cold swept through her, first as a shiver of sensation and then as a harder current of icy tremors. Allison felt her heart thudding wildly. The rush of blood burning in her fingertips. In her toes.

It was strange. Strange and unsettling.

Not at all what she imagined it would be like.

_It's okay,_ she thought. No one wants to die. She supposed that everyone is afraid when the time comes. It seemed like such a ridiculous way to die, though.

To Allison, whose own weapon was the composite bow . . . it didn't seem real, to be run through by a medieval katana. The long, slender blade that was only an extension of the ninja. And wasn't that exactly as it was designed to be, for when the ninjas were actually human. It moved with them, as fluidly as water. As deadly as a lightning strike.

Allison felt that deceptively delicate blade burn like cold fire as it slid so easily into her abdomen. Through flesh and muscle. The razor-edge grated the bones of her ribs and then came out the back of her with a startling jolt that shook her whole body. That long, elegant blade had gone straight through her. She remained on her feet, momentarily confused as to how she could possibly still be standing. Unaware that she was being held upright by the demonic strength of the dark ninja holding the katana.

It pulled the blade back with a single smooth sweep, freeing itself and releasing her body so that Allison crumpled, boneless, to the pavement.

Was she shaking?

Allison couldn't feel the tremors but she thought that maybe she was. Tiny little trembles as if she were cold, but even the slight chill in her blood was fading into numbness. She was starting to feel just a little better. Less like she was fading away and more like . . . there was no word for it. But the unsettling cold was going away and that, too, was okay.

Scott was there.

She was looking right into his eyes. Those deep, intelligent brown eyes that had intrigued her almost from the moment she met him. She was in his arms and Allison's mind spun, trying to remember if he'd caught her as she fell . . . or if he'd only just arrived.

"Did you find her?" Allison gasped, panted, and it felt like each word needed to be forced out. "Is she okay? Is Lydia safe?"

They were there to rescue Lydia. They'd come to save one of their own and . . . and that was important. That was something for Allison to hold on to. A bright point of memory to help focus her thoughts even though it was hard. So hard.

Scott's hands were everywhere. Warm, almost hot against Allison's cooling skin. He smoothed stands of hair gently out of her face. His eyes shone bright, glistening with worry. With panic, it seemed, and denial as he stared down at the girl in his arms.

"Yeah, she's okay." It was all Scott could think to say. What else was there? What could be said that would do justice to that moment? He felt helpless, useless in a way he'd never been before. There really was nothing he could do, now, and the wolf in him screamed in outrage. The Alpha driving him to do the impossible and save her. It didn't matter that Allison was human. Or that Stiles and Lydia were not wolves. They were _**his**_. Family. Pack.

Desperation had him reaching for Allison's hand. Her skin was cool and there was no strength in her fingers but he held on and focused his entire being on drawing the pain out of her. He pulled and pulled, heedless of whatever damage it might cause him and felt . . . nothing. She was empty.

"I-I can't," he said, bewildered. Frightened. He tightened his grip, moving to get a better hold on Allison's chalky pale hand. Her fingers stained crimson from her own blood.

Allison smiled, her eyes glistening in the pale moonlight. She looked up, her gaze fixed on the sea of stars swimming overhead. A sharp sickle moon peeking out from behind the thick clouds passing over the city. A slight breeze whirled gently, and over the scent of concrete and steel and garbage she thought she could make out the scent of grass. Of soil and living wood.

"I can't take your pain," Scott said, his voice breaking on the last word.

"It's because it doesn't hurt," Allison said, her own voice soft.

Silence.

The whole world had gone quiet. Peaceful. It was the stillness of a lake at dawn and it was beautiful. Scott didn't see, he didn't feel what she was feeling.

"No," he wouldn't let this happen. He _**couldn't**_ let t his happen. But Allison nodded, her heart hurting as she saw the tears blurring in his eyes. The pain in them. There was nothing she could do to make it better and hurting him is never what she'd wanted.

"It's okay . . ." she managed past the lump in her throat. Tears she fought hard not to let show. She _**was**_ afraid.

"Allison," Scott said and the grief and pain in that one word was enough to break her heart all over again. She'd heard what he was saying. _Allison, stay. Don't go._

"It's okay," she assured him, nodding weakly. The tears came, then. She didn't have the strength to hide them. She gathered her courage for Scott. "It's okay. It's perfect."

No. No! Scott shook his head, denying what she was trying to tell him. She was being ripped away. Torn from him and it hurt too badly to accept it. He was crying now, too. A single hot tear fell onto Allison's cheek.

"I'm in the arms of my first love," she said. "The first person I've ever loved . . . the person I'll always love. I–I love you."

She did love him. She would never stop loving him and if there was something beyond this, something that came after then she would love him then, too. Her sweet, beautiful wolf.

The darkness was closing in. A swell of warmth that swept through her.

Allison closed her eyes, afraid now. Truly afraid and stricken with a pain too deep to even feel. There were no words. She wanted so badly to stay! She wanted, she wanted . . . the arrows.

"Please, don't," Scott sobbed. And if he were able to hold her to him with the strength of his will alone, she would live forever. But for all his power, Scott was only still mortal. This one thing, what he wanted more than anything else, was beyond him. Panic rose, hot and fierce as he felt her slipping away. "Allison, don't! Please."

_Stay with me._

The arrows. The arrows.

There was something. Something more that needed to be said. The warm, soothing dark closed over her head. She was sinking. Sinking and floating and, somehow, flying.

"Y-you have to tell my dad," she was fighting it. Struggling to stay, _**needing**_ to stay just a little longer. "You have to tell my dad!"

So hard. So hard. The dark pulled, drawing her deeper into the black. She could only just feel Scott's arms. The warmth of his body. This was it. This was . . .

"Tell him. T-tell . . ."

A rush of air. A sudden, final thud heavy in her chest.

They needed to know!

No. Please, no.

Allison Argent died, cradled in the arms of the werewolf who loved her.


	2. Chapter 1 - Forever Falling

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 1**

**FOREVER FALLING**

* * *

"_The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day."_

– **Henry Wadsworth Longfellow **

* * *

My name is Allison.

Who am I?

Sometimes, I wonder.

It's not that I'm particularly complicated. But how does anybody answer that question? Who in the world is so simple that they can just sum themselves up in the space of a few sentences? No one.

No one is simple.

No decision is as straightforward as it might seem, even to the person making it. When Lydia was taken, stolen right out from under Scott and Peter while they were distracted . . . I thought that I was joining my friends to get her back. I truly believed that I was there to help my friends rescue one of our own. And Lydia _**was**_ one of us, just as _**I**_ was one of them. We were the human members of Scott's pack, along with Stiles and maybe, just maybe, so was the Kitsune called Keira. She was there, standing with Scott against her own mother. She was doing what she believed was right.

So was I.

It wouldn't occur to me until that very last second that maybe Lydia hadn't been my purpose after all. I wanted to think that if I had to die, then at least I would die for her. Lydia was family, wasn't she? My best friend but also my sister, in some strange way. We were bound to each other through our experiences. Through everything we'd gone through, leading up to this one moment. That finale, terrifying second where I felt the last breath leave my lungs and then . . . nothing. Darkness.

But what if I was wrong?

What if Lydia wasn't the reason I'd chosen to join my friends in what I knew would be a brutal battle against creatures that could not be killed? What chance did any of us have? No. It was more complicated than that. As I said . . . nobody is simple. No decision is as straightforward as any of us would like to believe.

I was there that night because that is exactly where I needed to be. I was the only archer in our group. In our small, strange Pack of misfits. I was the only one who could have fired that arrow and I hadn't done it for Lydia. I didn't do it for Scott. I fired my arrows, one after the other flying straight and sure into the bodies of those demon ninjas doing no damage at all . . . and then the last one. The one I was saving. I gave up my only silver arrow and I did it for Isaac. I did love Scott but it is actually possible to love more than one. And in that moment, my heart had gone out to golden-eyed Isaac. I loosed my last, most valuable arrow to save _**him**_.

Only now it was over. I was over and where I should have faded away, holding on to my victory to ease me on my way . . . all I felt was failure.

I dreamed.

And in my dream, I was falling. I fell though there was no up or down. No walls or floor or ceiling, just this sensation of cold and darkness everywhere. I was so scared I could have screamed, but when I opened my mouth nothing happened. And I wondered: if I fall forever and ever, without ever touching down, is it still "falling"?

It feels as if I'll just keep falling forever. The cold pierces deep, deep inside of me and I couldn't imagine an end to this. Was this death? Or was I only still dying? This could not be it for me. This awful, horrible forever-drop into nothingness could not be my eternity. But the helplessness of it – there was nothing I could do to stop this impossible plummet – made me wonder what choice I thought I had.

From far, far away there came the deep, mournful keen of a wolf. A single, crystal note rising from the depths to a place where it could never be silenced. Stars wheeled, swelling out of the darkness into a glistening spray of light so bright they filled me up. Cushioning my fall so that the terrifying, brutal speed slowed. I wasn't falling, now. I was floating. Floating on a tide that dipped and swelled, rocking me so gently that it was easy to trust myself to it. To lie back and allow that tide to carry me. This . . . _**this**_ was okay.

This was my forever.


	3. Chapter 2 - The Ocean

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 2**

**THE OCEAN**

* * *

"_We are an impossibility in an impossible universe."_

– **Ray Bradbury**

* * *

The clean, wild scent of wind and water filled me up inside and it was like being born again. It was new and fresh and wonderful. I felt so light. So open. The soft swell of water beneath my body, the gentle sway rocking me. Supported and cushioned in weightless warmth. I could stay like this forever, and if I had to . . . if this was what it was like to be dead, it wasn't so bad. This was good. And didn't I deserve to rest? Hadn't I earned this peace?

I drifted, just happy to float there. Satisfied in a way I had never known before. I was finished. There was nothing more for me to do. Nothing else that was expected of me. And it was the best feeling imaginable. So I slept and it was good. I slept and time passed but there was only the vaguest sense of it. Time was only for the living. I was somewhere else. In some other place where time had no hold over me. That, too, was nice.

Peaceful.

And yet, something nagged. A tiny tug at the back of my mind. Like a voice whispering and yet . . . not. _What are you doing? Get up!_

That did it. That voice, that incessant tugging, broke the stillness.

Water swelled, heaving and rolling beneath me. Warmth turned cool, and then cold. Panic replaced the peaceful lethargy and I screamed. Bitter water flooded my mouth. I choked, struggling to breath and despite everything I wondered if it were possible for me to drown. Cold, cold water frothed around me, sweeping over my head and I was pulled under by a fierce current that grabbed at my legs and tugged with a strength that seemed almost deliberate. I struggled, fighting for everything I was worth but there was nothing I could do!

Was I drowning? Was I really going to drown _**after**_ my own death?

Was that even ironic or just tragic?

And then with a final violent whirl I was driven up and out of the sea. Waves crashed and boiled, pushing my body even further onto the wet sand. My fingers scrabbled in the mud as I fought not to let those ruthless waves pull me back in. I crawled, only just managing to find the strength needed to make my body move! A numbing weakness was making things difficult and it occurred to me that even though I hadn't been aware of it, maybe time had been passing after all. How long had I been in the water?

"I'm here," I gasped, my throat raw and stinging. "I'm here!"

I didn't know what I was saying. The words just came out of me and I wasn't sure exactly what they were supposed to mean. My clothes were soaked through, heavy and uncomfortable against my skin. Dark, wet sand caked the palms of my hands and between my fingers. And I hurt. The pain wasn't extreme but it was persistent. Little aches that flared hotly if I moved. But I couldn't stay there, lying prone of some unfamiliar beach. I needed to get up. To look around and at least try and make sense of what was happening. If I was still somehow alive, then I needed to find my friends. I would have to get home. But if I really was dead? Well, if I was dead then something had gone wrong. I couldn't explain exactly why, but it felt as if this . . . this wasn't supposed to have happened.

Dragging myself up from the sand, I only just managed to keep from falling over by very quickly sitting down to rest. Even that small motion, the act of getting up, had exhausted me. Blood moved thickly through my veins and my heart, that steady, living pulse deep inside was actually beating. Beating. Just like it always did. My lungs worked smoothly, drawing in each breath and it was a glorious feeling after nearly drowning but it was not what I had expected.

I was dead. I was _**dead**_!

Only, for whatever reason, I wasn't . . .

The sky was blue. An unbroken expanse of winter blue so clear that I almost felt I should have been able to see the black of space straight through the atmosphere. I let my gaze sweep the sky, awed and a little afraid of the vastness. This sensation of distance. I stared up at the sky and it felt as if I were actually looking _**down**_. Nausea twisted in my stomach and I lowered my eyes, fighting the sudden whirl of vertigo.

The beach, really only a crescent of smooth dark sand pushed right up against a wall of trees standing tall and very still against the stiff breeze whooshing in from the ocean. These weren't California trees, which immediately turned me away from the faint hope that I might have been close to home. These trees were coniferous. Evergreens, neat Christmas pines and furrier spruces growing dark alongside the pale, narrow trunks of elms and cedars and the thicker, mangier trunks of immense oaks. The sound of wind through the canopies a rush of noise that could rival even the roar of the ocean and yet they seemed to complement each other. A symphony of power.

I realized that where I was didn't matter so much as what was happening. What I had originally assumed was just a beach, a shore pressing right up against the ocean, was actually a bay. An inlet of some sort where the land swept around in a wide oval, like arms reaching to embrace the water with only a narrow opening at the end which seemed to lead into the ocean proper. Dark, stony cliffs guarded that opening. Jagged rock looming ominously out over the water. Thick, hardy trees grew up there, too, but these ones seemed sinister. Unnatural.

I climbed to me feet, feeling strength slowly coming back to me and moisture squished in my shoes. I was wearing what I'd died in. Black jeans and a dark wool sweater. Bow, quiver and knives were absent. I'd lost my weapons.

"Hello!" I called out.

Stupid, yes, but also necessary. If there was anyone around, they _**might**_ answer. I waited, listening with all my might but there was nothing. No voices. No birds.

I hadn't immediately recognized the silence because between the crash of waves and the thunderous rustling of the trees, it hadn't seemed quiet. I became aware of it now, though. The silence was unnerving as I strained my ears for even a hint of noise. An animal rustling in the leaves. The hard caw of a crow. Anything!

Nothing. There was nothing.

I took a step, testing to see if I could manage it. My legs held my weight. Not effortless but my strength had returned. I started moving. I walked as quickly as could, with my shoes sinking into the wet sand so that it felt as if I were actually walking up a steep incline. My calves burned from the effort but I kept going.

Walk. Walk. Walk.

Step. Step. Step.

I walked parallel the trees, hesitant to go into the forest. So I followed the curve of the beach, making my way towards a tangle of driftwood. White, smooth lengths of wood that had washed up on shore from . . . hell, who knows? It was there and it gave me something to walk towards. A destination.

The scent of the ocean – slightly salty, mostly fishy – burned in my nose. I could still feel the harsh water grating at the back of my throat and my stomach felt tight. I thought I might have swallowed some salt water while being tossed around. Heat rippled thickly beneath my skin and I stopped moving. Leaned slightly forward, placing my hands on my knees and swallowed hard against the nausea tingling all through my body. Saliva and something sour filled my mouth only seconds before I threw up.

I fell, actually dropping to my hands and knees as the ocean I drank came back up. I dug my fingers into the hard, wet sand and vomited until I tasted blood. The spell didn't last long, and by the end of it I was feeling even worse. Cold and weak and dizzy . . . and very, very scared. I had no idea where I was, or what was happening to me. The sense of wrongness had not gone away and I felt trapped. Caged, though of course there was nothing holding me back. There were no bars or walls or chains, though I felt that there were. I just couldn't see them.

Yeah, I was scared.

I closed my eyes, wincing away from the bright daytime sun and pushed myself into the tangle of driftwood. I leaned back on one smooth branch and let myself go limp. The branches would do nothing to stop an attack, and should something happen they would actually work against me. Slowing me down as I struggled to escape through the tangle of wood but there was nowhere else for me to go.

I breathed deeply, forcing my body to accept the salt-and-fish scented air. My stomach gave a hard lurch in protest but I didn't think I would be sick again. The sun was warm on my face, even _**hot**_ despite the icy chill of the wind coming off the water. I could feel my clothes steaming as they dried. I might have fallen asleep, if not deeply then at least enough so that there was this stretch of silent non-thought. A dark, peaceful period where everything got very still. I dozed.

I could not have said exactly what pulled me out of that pleasant lethargy, but all at once I was awake again. Awake and alert. My gaze swept the empty beach but there was nothing there. I turned towards the trees, uncomfortable with the lengthening shadows there. It was later in the day, now, and the temperature had dropped. The chill in the wind cut just a little deeper, now.

Something moved between the trees. So fast it was more an impression of motion. But there was definitely something there. Whatever it was, it was big and silent as a ghost. The creature paced, loped long-legged strides through the trees without even a hint of hesitation. Eyes shone bright, glinting eerily in the shadows. It was coming straight for the beach, moving so fast it had to know exactly what it was after.

I very suddenly wasn't alone anymore.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Charcoal Wolf

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 3**

**THE CHARCOAL WOLF**

* * *

"_Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."_

– **Dr. Seuss**

* * *

I held my breath in anticipation as the large creature approached but the thing that stepped so daintily out from the trees was not what I expected. I imagined a monster or some ferocious animal. What I saw was something else entirely. And it took my breath away.

A wolf.

A young, slim wolf with amber-brown eyes that caught the fading sunlight so that it pooled in their depths, becoming liquid and, somehow, igniting them. His eyes turned a bright, fierce gold in the light and they were eyes that sparkled with intelligence. A predatory cunning, but beneath that I saw a quiet consideration as the wolf stood in the sand and watched me. Cautiously but without any fear. Its paws sank into the dark sand, with the sharp toes digging grooves just a little deeper than the rest of the print. It's thick, luscious fur was wolf gray but dark. More like the color of charcoal dust, so though its pelt was very clearly gray it could easily have been a pale black.

I was frozen, but not with fear. Awe.

There was no other word for it. I stared at the adolescent wolf standing only feet away and I was just awestruck. He was beautiful in a way that couldn't be properly explained. If asked to tell someone what it was, exactly, that made him so magnificent I would have been at a loss. Physically, the wolf was certainly handsome. An attractive male, with just enough of the cub left in him to make his adult-size seem too big. Like he hadn't grown into himself yet. But there was something else there, some inexplicable attraction. Oh, yes. He was purely and simply beautiful.

The charcoal wolf took a hesitant step forward, moving further onto the beach and bringing himself just a little closer to me. He didn't seem surprised by my presence. I met his gaze again and, again, was struck by the intelligence there. That focused consideration.

Honestly? He looked at me with something akin to inconvenience. Like we'd made plans and I hadn't kept to them. As if we'd arranged to meet at a restaurant and there I was, showing up on his doorstep. It was a strange feeling, to be silently chastised by an animal. And the sensation was so strong that it actually made me feel a little embarrassed. Like I should have just kept to the plan and met him where we'd already agreed on.

Heaving a heavy sigh, breathing out through his nostrils in a clearly annoyed huff, the wolf shook out its fur and tossed its head. It paced nimbly a few steps in my direction and then circled a wide arch back towards the trees leaving only shallow prints in the dark, wet sand. I watched the wolf, following it with my eyes as it loped eagerly back toward the shelter of the trees. Disappointed to see it go but still too worn out to want the company.

The wolf paused at the very edge of the forest and looked back, only once, to spear me with its shining golden gaze. I started, surprised by the intensity in that single quick glance. The wolf tilted its long ears slight back and even with the distance and the glare of sunlight shining off the water, I saw its nostrils flare. It huffed one more time and then slipped noiselessly into the forest. I shivered, unwilling to admit to myself that that had been an invitation to follow. The wolf had seemed to have come specifically for me, even if it did appear a little surprised to see me sitting on the beach in a tangle of bone white driftwood, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't wrong. He'd come with a purpose.

Me.

I took only a moment to consider to consequences of following a two-hundred pound timber wolf into the deep woods but there was nothing else for me to do. So I stood up, knocking my shoulder on a branch so hard that it nearly knocked me back onto my butt. Stinging, my shoulder hot with pain, I tried again and managed to crawl out of the tangle I'd slept in.

The breeze coming off the ocean was icy cold and cut straight through my sweater. Chills crawled through me and my teeth chattered, but only for a few seconds. I wrapped my arms around myself and followed the wolf's paw prints down the beach so that I could find the exact place where it had gone into the trees. Overhead, the sky seemed to reel. Stars winked through the deepening blue. There was no moon and, for the first time, I realized that though it had been bright and sunny throughout the day, there hadn't been any sun, either.

I stopped walking so that I wouldn't trip as my whole body trembled. From fear, yes. But also confusion. Helplessness. I was so, so lost and tears burned in my eyes. Angrily, I forced them away . I wasn't helpless. Never that. And now, at least, I had something to move towards.

Would the wolf be waiting for me? Or was I going to have to track him?

I looked at the wall of northern trees. The forest didn't appear particularly ominous or menacing. It was shaded beneath the canopy, but only because the light couldn't cut through the leaves and intertwined branches as easily as in the wide open beach. And over the reek of the sea, I could pick out the sharper scents of pine resin and damp wood. The musk of moss growing on trunks and the oddly clean smell of a carpet of fallen leaves, slowly decomposing on the forest floor. It was such a natural, _**alive**_ scent that it actually comforted me. But just a little. I didn't know what _**else**_ might be in there.

Besides, what choice did I have? It was stupid to think I could just stay on the beach and wait to be rescued . . . or whatever. And even with a pulse drumming firmly under my ribcage, I wasn't entirely certain I was actually alive. I knew – _**knew**_ – I had died in Scott's arms that night. Hours ago, or a million years? I couldn't tell and to be honest, I didn't care. I was dead.

Dead.

And the mere thought terrified me. My mind shied away from that direction and I was okay with that. Wherever I was now, whatever this beach and the bay that opened up into what looked like the ocean was supposed to be . . . I was not in a good place. Heaven or paradise or, hell, the Elysian Fields for all I cared. I was somewhere else. And the only conclusion I could draw from that was absolutely terrifying.

* * *

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:** _Sorry, everyone. Short chapter, I know, but I've been away and haven't had much time to write. Allison is starting to put things together in her own mind, now, so even if this chapter isn't very long it shows that so it's an important bit. :P Hope you liked it._


	5. Chapter 4 - Night Light

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 4**

**NIGHT LIGHT**

* * *

"Life is too cruel. If we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?"

– **Katarina Petrova**,

_The Vampire Diaries; _S02E19

* * *

The forest was dark and would only grow darker as night fell. No sun sank because as far as I could tell, the sun did not exist in this place. Whatever. It was almost night and through the rustling canopy so far over my head, I could just see the silver wink of stars in an indigo sky. The rich, complex smell of the forest filled my head with scent and seemed to have a sedating effect. I was feeling lethargic. Almost dreamy. I placed one foot in front of the other without any actual thought. I just kept moving forward, ducking beneath thicker branches and pushing through the undergrowth only because that's what I was already doing.

The slim, strong gray wolf paced tirelessly ahead of me. Leading me through the trees with sure-footed certainty. We were definitely going _**somewhere**_ and there was some comfort in that. But though the creature led me, it moved fast enough so that I would only catch fleeting glimpses of that shaggy, charcoal-colored pelt and alertly pointed ears. It didn't let me catch up but was careful never to lose me. That part wasn't quite as reassuring.

Where, exactly, was he taking me?

I stopped walking, finding it difficult to get my feet to hold still after what felt like hours of plodding resolutely along and closed my eyes. The wind howled, raking cold fingers through my hair and tossing the canopy of leaves with a sound that was just like the roar of the sea. I was far enough inland now so that I couldn't smell the water anymore but there was a dampness to the forest air. A dampness thick enough so that I could feel the moisture cooling against my skin. The carpet of leaves and springy moss beneath my boots was slick. It had rained recently and the forest had come to life because of it, although there was still no evidence of birds or animals.

Everything green was wonderfully, gloriously alive. But this forest was empty.

Aware that I was no longer following, the wolf had returned for me just as I thought it would. It stood only a few feet away, head held high and tilted inquisitively. Amber eyes, darker now that night had fallen, still held the faintest hint of sunlight in them. A memory of that shining gold, as if they had absorbed the sunlight and it would take a while for it to fade completely.

"Are we almost there?" I whispered, my voice tight from disuse.

It would have been wonderful if the wolf had answered me. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear actual words coming from him but there was nothing like that. His only response to my inquiry was a partial tilt of one ear.

After a moment of staring at each other, the wolf huffed and turned around. It took a few quick steps, paused, looked back at me from over a shaggy shoulder and then kept going. The meaning was clear: "_Follow me_."

I did.

I obeyed because there was no other option. I could go off by myself but that was just stupid. The night was only growing colder and the damp chilled me straight to the bone. At least with the wolf, I wasn't alone. And with any luck, he was taking me to someplace safe.

I walked, each step seeming heavier than the last. I wasn't just cold. I was tired and whatever reserves of strength I'd managed to find since leaving the beach were quickly being depleted. My stomach cramped painfully, reminding me of how violently I'd been sick on the beach. I was hungry, too. Cold and hungry and drowsy. All signs of life. Evidence, I would have said, that I hadn't died but it didn't matter. I couldn't shake the feeling that my own heartbeat was the illusion.

I was dead. Dead and with a body I couldn't guarantee was even real.

I stared straight ahead as I walked, keeping my eyes glued on that illusive shape pacing so near but always just within sight. And, gradually, I became aware of something else. The scent of the forest had changed. A sharp, familiar acrid smell that warmed me just by being there. Wood smoke. Fire. My mouth watered with the scent and without thinking I doubled my pace. Stepping faster than I would have thought I had the strength for. The wolf seemed pleased, shooting me an appreciative glance.

There were lights twinkling through the trees. Not stars, these were at ground level and my heart skipped in anticipation. A house? Could there really be a house out here?

Yes!

Right there, tucked away in the trees was a simple, two story log cabin. I stared, astonished by the mere existence of this place in what was essentially the afterlife. And I had to wonder if I'd somehow summoned the cabin myself. Did I do this? No. The wolf loped confidently towards the cabin, tail waving eagerly. I hesitated a little distance from the front door. Cautious instinct warring with desire. This could be a trap. If not, it could still be dangerous.

But the glass windows shone like beacons in night. Warm yellow light beamed through the glass to light the damp trunks of the closest trees and left wobbly ripples on the mossy ground. Smoke puffed languidly from a short brick chimney. The roof was neat, modern tile though the outside walls were wooden logs. The house looked like a modern structure built to resemble a rustic log cabin. There was no porch, but the three steps leading up to the front door were red brick. There was no path or paving anywhere, though. The ground at the base of the steps was slick leaves, moss and earth.

This whole thing appeared to have sprung up out of the ground, or else was dropped down from the sky. It seemed to have been deliberately put there.

The wolf skipped up the three steps and whined, like a dog asking to be let in. After a moment, it bumped its head against the door and whined again. Someone moved inside the house and I winced slightly back, hesitant to be seen. Trusting in the dark's ability to hide me. Through the windows, I saw a shadow slide over the inside walls as whoever lived there went for the door.

My heart thumped hard. The scent of wood smoke, the promise of warmth and maybe a place to rest was torturous. I so desperately wanted to join the wolf on the step, and beg the owner of the house to be allowed in but it was hard. Hard to make my body step out of the darkness. I was suffering from the cold but I still had no idea who might have been there. I couldn't decide if showing myself was worth the risk.

The door swung open, releasing a burst of heat. Logically, I should have been too far away to feel any of it but I could have sworn that I did. Dry heat that felt amazing against my chilled skin. The scent of smoke, of a fire, sharpened and that part wasn't my imagination. Something else was carried on that scent. Something that made my mouth water and my stomach cramp with longing. It was the smell of something cooking.

I closed my eyes and ducked my head, resting my chin on my chest. My fingers were numb from cold. Every part of me chilled.

The scent of wet, warm fur tickled the inside of my nose and I looked exhaustedly up into a pair of gleaming, amber-brown eyes. The wolf was _**right there**_, his nose only inches from my own. His breath puffed lightly on my face. He whined low in his throat and stepped delicately closer, so that his snout passed by my cheek. He nuzzled the side of my neck, his touch gentle. As if he were being careful not to alarm me.

From over the wolf's shoulders, I could see a figure standing in the open doorway of the comfortable little cabin. Backlit by a shining, orange-yellow light it was difficult to see his face. By his shape, I was sure he was male. Tall and thin, though not scrawny. Lean. A strong body. He didn't make a noise, but seemed to be watching the wolf. Waiting patiently for the animal to return.

The wolf nudged me, sharp teeth only just grazing my skin.

I stood up, my body cramped even after only a few minutes of holding still. I couldn't stand the damp and the cold anymore. Whoever was there, I would have to trust he wouldn't murder me in my sleep. I stepped forward, careful to keep my balance despite the shivers wracking my body, and the wolf came with me. It stayed by my side this time, matching its pace to mine. Not pulling ahead. Not pushing me to move faster.

The guy in the doorway said nothing. He didn't move but I could feel his eyes as he watched me approach. There was this stillness, a sense of quiet about him that made it seem as if even the wind through the leaves was momentarily silenced. Nervously, I stepped into the light and felt the slightest quiver of heat ripple over me.

We were only feet apart, now. The doorway so, so near but I hesitated.

I still couldn't make out the guy's face, backlit as he was by firelight. But familiarity prickled at the back of my mind. It was in the way he stood. The way he positioned his body. I knew him and, even as the thought entered my mind I felt my heart squeeze in immediate denial.

No!

It couldn't be.

It couldn't . . . it _**was**_.


	6. Chapter 5 - Cabin in the Woods

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 5**

**CABIN IN THE WOODS**

* * *

"It is much easier to be critical than correct."

– **Benjamin Disraeli**

* * *

I stared into the piercing, blue-gray eyes of a boy I knew and my first thought was despair, not relief. I wasn't alone anymore, here was someone I knew and trusted and I would have given anything for it to be someone else standing there backlit by warm yellow light. Anyone but _**him**_ because if he was here, than he was dead and I refused to accept that. This could not be real.

If only his face hasn't been so beautifully, heartbreakingly familiar . . . I might have been able to convince myself that this was just some great cosmic joke. Only it wasn't.

Isaac.

I knew that face as well as I knew my own. I had already spent so much time staring into those eyes, watching the colors change with his moods. Sometimes blue, sometimes gray. Most of the time, they were a rich stormy hue that was a near perfect blending of both. Those eyes had never needed the werewolf-shine to be beautiful. Not to me.

Isaac _**couldn't**_ be here.

"You look cold," he said and stepped back from the door, making room for me to pass. "Come on in."

I shivered, hating the feeling of wrongness in this. It was the same uneasiness that had been haunting my steps from the moment I pulled myself out of the ocean and it was a lot like the feeling you get when you think someone is following you. You'll look over your shoulder, trying to gauge if the dark shape walking down the sidewalk is actually following or if they just happen to be going in the same direction. Not a good feeling.

The invitation to enter the cabin was offered so easily, so naturally, that my feet started moving before my brain really understood where I was going. Warmth from the cabin and the delicious aromas of something cooking drew me forward almost as if I were being led by the hand. I wanted to go inside, if only for a little while. I tried to justify myself by thinking that I could watch fake-Isaac better in the light but really, I was just cold and hungry and I didn't want to be out in the woods anymore.

The large gray wolf walking docilely by my side gave a low whine and then suddenly shot into the cabin. A second later, I passed over the threshold.

Warmth! Real, rich heat enveloped me in a curtain of pure bliss. The heat elicited an immediate swell of relief so thick that I blinked and it was difficult to reopen my eyes. Exhaustion swamped my mind and I could very happily have lain down on the floor and gone to sleep. Of course, I didn't do that. From behind, I head the quiet click of the door closing. I was very aware of Isaac's presence behind me. I held still, waiting to see what would happen but all fake-Isaac did was call the wolf away from the huge, iron woodstove and the large pot simmering on top of it.

A woodstove?

I glanced quickly around the small but comfortable room, searching for a fireplace and realized that the flickering light and shadow of flames I'd seen from outside was not from a hearth at all. The light came from an oil lamp sitting on a square wood table pushed up against the wall. A second lamp hung from an iron hook on the wall, effectively lighting the entire room in a dim but soothing glow. It had just seemed much brighter from outside.

I flinched a little as fake-Isaac moved past me. He was dressed casually in modern clothes. Blue jeans. A dark blue sweatshirt and sneakers. He looked so normal. Exactly as he would look if I were meeting him at school or the clinic or in my room and it left me feeling confused. Not because I'd expected him to be wearing lumberjack-plaid or whatever, but because as sure as I was that the boy wearing Isaac's face wasn't him . . . he _**looked**_ like him.

"Have a seat," fake-Isaac said, motioning with one hand towards the table. I obeyed, mostly only because it seemed like too much trouble to make a fuss.

The table was rustic but, like everything else in the cabin, it appeared deliberate. A modern version of a real frontier table. A small, square table built from unvarnished wood. There were only two chairs and I got the impression it was done on purpose. Like I was expected. One chair for me, and one for _**him**_. We wouldn't need any more.

I sat down, pulling my chair far enough out from the table to leave myself room to very quickly get up again in case I needed to and folded my hands on my lap. The young gray wolf snapped its jaw, clicking its teeth and padded sedately over to me. Without even looking at me, it folded itself down and lay with its head on its outstretched legs. Intelligent amber-brown eyes watched fake-Isaac with interest.

So did I. Fake-Isaac was moving around the stove, pulling a ceramic bowl off a shelf nailed to the wall and ladling some of whatever was simmering on the stove into the bowl. He brought it over to me with a spoon. I took the bowl with a grateful smile. From the smell, I had expected soup. But it was a stew. A thick, heavy stew chunky with pieces of carrot and potato and beef. Much better than anything I could have asked for. I felt almost sick with hunger. My mouth watered something sour and I dug into the food as if I were never going to eat again.

Could the dead feel hunger?

Whatever. I was starving and having been sick on the beach had left me weak. I needed this.

The stew was delicious. My only complaint would have been that I ate too quickly, therefore had no time to enjoy it. At least, not the first bowl. By the time I scraped the last bit of gravy from the bottom, fake-Isaac had already placed another heaping bowlful in front of me. Ready, as if he'd somehow known I would want more.

I pushed the empty bowl away and reached for the new one, but this time I hesitated. Fake-Isaac had been sitting there at the table right across from me, watching me eat with a very calm expression on his face. Right away, a cold chill shivered up the back of my neck. "What did you do?"

"What?" There was just the right amount of bemused amusement in his voice. It was exactly the tone I would have heard from the real Isaac and it put my back up. This wasn't right. I'd been too trusting.

"Did you put something in this?" I nodded at the bowls, one scraped clean and the other overflowing. The smell was so savory that I almost didn't care it might be poisoned.

Fake-Isaac offered a small smile and leaned back in his chair, making it creak. "Just eat, Allison."

No.

I shoved the bowl away and stood up so quickly that despite the room I'd given myself to move, my chair still toppled over. "What did you give me?"

"Nothing," he said, simply.

I stared straight into fake-Isaacs eyes, my panic bubbling. What I'd eaten felt like poison in my gut, twisting. Acid. Something hot and horrible burning inside of me.

Fake-Isaac's eyes were wrong, and I hadn't noticed it when I should have seen it right away.

The illusion of a friendly face wasn't as perfect as I first thought.

The real Isaac had a stare that was so focused, so clear, and yet he would never look right at you. He kept his eyes carefully averted. Not out of shyness, it was an instinctive submissiveness that had nothing to do with his werewolf side. It was a leftover from his abusive past; from before he gained the power to protect himself from those who meant to hurt him. Becoming a werewolf hadn't changed that, though it did wonders for his confidence. A part of him was still firmly locked in that troubled-place, and it made it so that his eyes would meet mine but, inevitably, they would slide away as if he were uncomfortable with meeting anybody's gaze for too long.

The illusion wasn't holding. _**This**_ Isaac had none of that. He looked exactly like the Isaac I knew, and that had lulled me into a false compliancy. I'd let my guard down and now . . . now I was going to pay for it.


	7. Chapter 6 - Unanswered

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 6**

**UNANSWERED**

* * *

"_The final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands."_

– **Anne Frank**

* * *

Isaac was out of his chair and had me by the arms in an instant. His hands were warm but unfamiliar. Fingers tightened around the upper parts of my arms. Fingers, not claws, but they still dug painfully into the skin there. The shock of the mild hurt was just enough to break through my panic and I froze. I stopped struggling and held perfectly still. Like a cornered cat, I bristled and watched him carefully. I was ready and no matter what was happening to me, I had to remember who I was.

Allison Argent.

Not just some girl, I was still a Hunter and the daughter of one of the most prestigious lines of Hunters in the world. Even if I was dead . . . I was still _**me**_.

"Better?" fake-Isaac asked softly.

He released me. Stepped back.

The unexpectedness of it confused me where it shouldn't have and made it so that I hesitated. A dangerous move, to pause like that. But I was still so tired and my stomach was already cramping from the richness of the stew I'd eaten after so long running on empty. I was nowhere near my best and I had to wonder if fake-Isaac was counting on that. Was it his intention to unbalance me, or coincidence that I felt as bad as I did?

"Who are you?" I demanded.

The stew continued to roll inside and my stomach gurgled. I swallowed hard, trying to abandon the thought that the food might have been poisoned. That this stranger with the familiar face might have dosed me with something awful.

"Who am I?" he echoed. "Who do you think I am?"

I didn't know. I couldn't imagine who he might really be, only that he wasn't who he appeared. He also seemed deeply amused by this whole situation and not in the least intimidated by me. He actually turned his back so that he could right the chair I knocked over in my haste to get away. He also stooped to pick up the empty bowl that I hadn't even noticed was knocked off the table. The one that still had stew in it somehow escaped the same fate. It sat solidly where I'd left it, growing cold but it still smelled delicious. I looked away.

Fake-Isaac's wolf had darted across the room at my sudden, startling outburst and now crouched low, watching me apprehensively as if it waiting to see if I would freak out again. I made a face at him and the wolf tilted its ears forward.

"You have questions," fake-Isaac prodded.

"Yeah," I said. "Did you drug me?"

He smiled and shot me a look from over his shoulder. "Paranoia is unbecoming, Allison. I am not trying to poison you."

That was good to know. Did I believe him? We would see.

Fake-Isaac sat back down at the table, crossing his legs at the ankles and motioned for me to retake my own seat. I did, this time with no hesitation at all so as not to let slip just how unnerved I really was. I was alone, here. I had to find my strength again. I needed that Hunter confidence because as far as I could tell, it was all I had. I didn't think I had _**ever **_been so alone . . . and it was a horrible feeling. Fake-Isaac pushed the spare bowl of stew towards me, inviting me to eat more but I only shook my head.

"You have questions," he said again. An invitation to continue my inquiry. I sensed he was being sincere but had a hard time believing that I could trust anything he said to me.

So where did that leave us? I closed my eyes and inhaled, breathing deeply.

_Something simple,_ I decided. "Where are we?"

There. As far as questions go, asking about our location seemed simple enough. Only where fake-Isaac should have answered right away, there came only silence. I glanced at him, startled to find he was looking right at me a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Out of everything you might have asked . . ." he muttered.

I had no immediate response to that so I said nothing. Fake-Isaac seemed to sense my quiet impatience because, to my surprise, he started talking.

"I'm not being difficult," he said. "I can't tell you where you are because I really don't know."

I blinked at him, momentarily thrown by that small confession but managed a short, "What does that mean?"

Fake-Isaac said, "It means exactly what it sounds like. I don't know where this place is."

"Then what are _**you**_ doing here?"

He'd given me no reason to think he was lost in this place, too. He knew, even if he didn't want to say.

"I go where I'm sent, Allison," There was only a hint of impatience in fake-Isaac's voice. Enough to make me pause, to wonder if he were actually telling the truth. "I don't necessarily need to know exactly where that place is."

He sighed, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He was making himself comfortable in preparation for my next question but before I could think of what else to say, he added: "I came here because this is where you were."

"You're here for me?" I said. Glanced at the wolf who still hadn't moved from his corner. He was watching me with those bright, amber-brown eyes. Curiously.

"Yes. I'm here for you," said fake-Isaac.

"How come?"

Again, a brief silence from the boy sitting across from me. I turned my gaze from the wolf and found fake-Isaac watching me. His achingly familiar stormy blue eyes softer than before. They looked more like Isaac's eyes, now. Focused but uncertain. More hesitant. The shape of his face had changed a little, too. It was leaner. A little paler but not sickly. Just fairer. I blinked, startled, waiting for the illusion to end but it didn't. Fake-Isaac's appearance had actually changed. The differences were subtle but striking. Where I could see the wrongness in this person's attempt to look like the Isaac I knew only seconds ago, I found that I no longer could.

Fake-Isaac now looked _**exactly**_ like the real-Isaac. The illusion was perfect. Flawless.

My heart gave a single, solid thump in my chest. My throat tightened and I looked away, turning my head and closing my eyes to shut out the sight. Out of everything that was wrong and unnatural in the place, this cut the deepest. I didn't want the games. What did he think he was doing to me, making himself look like someone I knew and loved and trusted?

"I've changed," fake-Isaac muttered, sounding as if he were speaking to himself. Then, to me, "Allison? Look at me."

No. No, I didn't want to.

But I did.

Stubbornness, my unwillingness to be frightened away, had me reopening my eyes. I did as he asked and looked at him. My heart gave another short, hard thud. Fake-Isaac looked so much like the real one that it felt wrong to continue calling him _**'fake'**_. The boy sitting there, arms crossed on the table as he leaned intently forward was real. He was so real and solid and alive that my mind shied away from the thought that I was being tricked. It didn't seem to matter that I knew this was only an illusion.

"What are you?" I asked the obvious question. Not _**who**_ was he. What.

Isaac smiled at me. "I'm whatever you need me to be."

Wonderful. "Are you unable to answer a question? That's not what I was asking and you know it."

"Finally," Isaac said, his smile widening with approval. "There she is. I was starting to wonder what happened to the Hunter-Allison."

Games. Frustration burned, the intensity of the emotion surprising me. A bright, clear anger that felt remarkably welcome after what felt like an eternity of cool numbness. Isaac was right. In one brilliantly hot moment, I was me again.

And I was not impressed by his deliberate manipulation. This stranger wearing the face of someone I would trust absolutely . . . he couldn't be trusted at all.

"What are you?" I asked it again. Firmly, this time. Without any hesitation or uncertainty in my voice.

His face blurred, shifting and stretching like watercolors on a sheet of paper. I didn't blink, not wanting to miss what was happening. This time, I wanted to see it all.


	8. Chapter 7 - Off the Beaten Path

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 7**

**OFF THE BEATEN PATH**

* * *

"_Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."_

– **Ralph Waldo Emerson**

* * *

I tried not to blink but as Isaac's face twisted and blurred, morphing into something unrecognizable I couldn't help myself. My eyes burned and I went nearly cross-eyed trying to focus on what was happening. So I blinked. Just a fast snap shut and open to lessen the dry burn but in that split-second of blindness it was over. Whatever fake-Isaac was becoming, he finished.

And where I'd felt despair and grief at the sight of what I first thought was Isaac, this new face was completely different. I felt the sharp shock of painful recognition, but also disbelief. The hurt was lessened because I knew that this was not real.

But it still hurt. Of course it hurt.

I found myself staring into the deep, dark eyes of my first real love. I'd had boyfriends before him, but he was the first boy to really matter. I gave him my heart, and had never once regretted it. Even when we ended, I never stopped caring for him. Scott.

They were right.

You never really forget your first love. You never stop caring for them.

"That's cruel," I said.

Scott's face twisted into his familiar contrite smile. He glanced away. Even his gestures had changed. Where he moved like Isaac while looking like Isaac, he now moved like Scott because he looked like Scott.

"Allison, I'm only a reflection of where you're mind is at," he said. "You asked me what I am. Just like my appearance, I am whatever you need me to be. I'm here to guide you. To direct and even protect you, if I can. But I'm primarily a guide and for now, _**that**_ is what you need to know."

Well, that was news but not surprising. I think I might have already suspected, even while distrusting him. Even while thinking he was actively trying to harm me, I hadn't fought him. I stayed because there was something, he'd given himself away though I wasn't exactly sure how, but it was enough for some part of me to notice. He was trying to help me.

Without meaning to, I turned my attention towards the remaining bowl of stew starting to congeal on the table between us. I hooked the bowl with a finger and pulled it toward me. The spoon clanked against the side.

Fake-Scott, my guide, leaned forward and passed his hand over the bowl. The stew immediately started steaming. Warm again. He offered me a small, conciliatory smile.

"So all this," I said, nodding to encompass the whole cabin. "You did all of this for me? Because you knew I'd need somewhere to stay."

"Yes," Scott said. "You can think of this as a sort of home base. This place is yours, for as long as you want it. You can rest here and you will always, always be safe within these walls."

"Safe from what?" I asked.

Fake-Scott hesitated, then, but only for a moment. He said, "There are things in this forest that you wouldn't want to stumble across. Dark things."

I let the spoon I was holding drop back into the bowl, suddenly not hungry at all anymore. I looked out the square windows – one on each side of the front door – and saw only a spot of pitch black. Jet black. A darkness so deep that it wasn't nighttime, but more like a total absence of light. It was as if the world outside the cabin had just blinked out of existence, leaving this room to continue on in a void. A creeping cold shivered up the back of my neck and I looked quickly away from the windows.

"Did I die?" I asked fake-Scott.

My mind flinched at the memory of what it had been like, lying there on the hard asphalt. The warmth of Scott's arms around me. The anguish as I watched his pain and then the realization that I was slipping away. I couldn't stop it, then. I'd tried so hard to stay but whatever was drawing me down, down into the swell of a black ocean had been impossible. I couldn't resist. I had never felt so helpless and that draw had been merciless. It was going to take me, no matter what.

The mere memory of those last few moments hurt. I felt the sting of tears and stubbornly resisted. That, at least, I had the power to prevent. I would not cry.

We'd been sitting for a minute, and I only then noticed that fake-Scott had not responded. He was watching me, a solemn expression darkening his eyes and in his gaze I saw his answer. I was not wrong.

I died that night and now . . . now what?

"This wasn't supposed to happen, was it," I said.

There. Finally, I had the nerve to say out loud what I'd suspected. Somehow, for some reason, something had gone wrong. I wasn't where I was supposed to be. I got lost in death and that was frightening in a whole other way. The rules had changed on me and now, I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

My "guide" nodded his head, once. Sadly, it seemed.

"No, this shouldn't have happened," he agreed. "But it did and it does, sometimes."

"This happened before?"

Fake-Scott shot me a look. "This can be fixed, Allison, but I can't do anything for you. This, all of this, is because of you and because of that no one else can change anything that happens, here. If you want to find your way, you have to find it yourself."

"Find my way?" I echoed. "Find my way _**where**_?"

"Wherever," he said, shrugging a little.

And then, all at once, it came to me. Like pieces of a puzzle falling neatly into place, or a single beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds. I understood. "Are. You. Serious? Are you telling me that the reason I'm here instead of . . . of wherever I was supposed to go, is that I got knocked off course? How does that even happen?"

That elicited a small laugh. "Knocked off? Nah, nothing so simple. More like you fought the current and got flung out. I have no idea what could have been so important that you ended up doing that to yourself but, it's done. Now we have to figure out how, exactly, we're going to make things right again. Because you can't stay here."

We were talking about me moving on to some distant afterlife-place as if I'd taken a wrong turn on the highway. It was stupid. More than that, it was ridiculous but how could I sit there and deny any of it? I was dead. My guide may have only confirmed it, but I hadn't ever really doubted it. Not even when I pulled myself out of the ocean and drew that first, gasping breath. I had known that when I died in Scott's arms, run through by the elegantly curved blade of a demon's katana . . . I hadn't survived.

Still, it was too much to take in. Too much to just sit back and accept. I was dead and got lost somewhere along the way.

Trust an Argent to so royally screw up dying.

"What do you mean, I can't stay here?"

The way he'd said it, it had sounded ominous. Not like I just had to continue on my way, but like I really _**could not stay here**_.

"You still don't get it, do you?" fake-Scott said. Now he just sounded impatient. "Nothing exists outside the current, the stream . . . hell, the _**road**_ you were on. Call it whatever you want. There's nothing outside of it. It is not possible to exist in non-existence so you essentially created a small bubble around yourself to keep you from just blinking out." He flung his arms out, to encompass the room and the whole world around us. "All of this is just an extension of yourself. This is the embodiment of your will to survive but it's shrinking. The Nothing outside this bubble is pressing in. This whole place is collapsing and it's going to take you with it when it does."

My heart was hammering. My dead heart, which should not have been beating at all, pounded in my chest. I might have been sweating, too, but the truth is I was so frightened that I couldn't tell. I didn't even think to question what my guide was telling me.

I _**believed**_ him.


	9. Chapter 8 - What was Left Unsaid

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 8**

**WHAT WAS LEFT UNSAID**

* * *

"_We are so vain that we even care for the opinion of those we don't care for."_

– **Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach**

* * *

I spent the night lying in a warm bed, listening to the wind whirling outside. It was so loud that even with the windows closed; I could hear the trees being tossed. Their leaves rustling like thunder all around the small cabin. It should have bothered me but to be honest, all I felt was relief. As dark as it was outside, the noises assured me that there was _**still**_ something out there.

The cabin in the woods was small, with only a single square room comfortably heated by the woodstove and lit by a pair of antique oil lamps. But there was a bedroom, of sorts. Or at least, a place set aside for sleeping. There was also an open and very small loft, accessible by a wooden ladder nailed solidly into place. Walking to the edge on the upstairs floor, I could look down and see the stove and the table and the front door. If I lifted my arms up, I could actually lay the palms of my hands on the ceiling. Some of the outside chill crept through the wood, there, and it felt nice. The cool against my skin.

The loft "bedroom" wasn't much to look at. There was a bed with sheets and a plush comforter. A side-table with a small, unlit oil lamp identical to the ones downstairs. And a window.

Lying in the bed, trying to calm myself enough to sleep, I quickly decided that I hated that window. A triangular window that gaped black nothingness back at me. It made me remember what fake-Scott/Isaac had said. About how this whole bubble universe that I'd created to protect myself from the oblivion just outside was collapsing. That sometime soon, all of this would blink out of existence and if I was still inside when it did . . . I wouldn't be dead anymore. I would be gone.

I really couldn't even wrap my mind around the concept. What would it be like to not exist anymore? Nothing. It would be like nothing. I supposed the good part is that as frightened of it as I was right that second, if it did happen than at least it wouldn't be bad. You can't suffer non-existence. It happens and then it's over. No pain. No fear. No suffering, certainly. Just nothing.

But I didn't want that. Yes, I was afraid of dying. Of being dead. And I was confused, now, and still terrified of what it meant to keep going. I didn't know what waited for me at the end of this. I didn't know where I should have been, or what it was like there and it was terrifying. But at least, no matter where that current was taking me, I would still exist. I was still somewhere. Letting myself become nothing was even scarier. So I would do what I had to, and trust that whatever waited for me at the end of all this was okay.

I had to trust that I was going to _**be**_ okay.

I pulled my sheets up to my chin and turned my back on that hateful window.

At some point through the night, the wolf joined me in the loft. I have no idea how he climbed the ladder but whatever. He was there. I kept my eyes closed and breathed deeply, pretending to be asleep and listened to the wolf pace for a while. He wandered around the small loft area, diving into corners and looking at things just like a dog who wasn't quite ready for bed. He eventually grew tired of that and leapt nimbly up onto the mattress. He stepped carefully over my legs and settled next to me, stretching out as comfortably as he could with deliberate care not to jostle me. I smiled and snuggled deeper into the blankets. The wolf lay his head down and sighed.

* * *

I woke to the first tentative rays of sunlight just peeking through the trees. The golden green shine of a forest at dawn. My head was full of the scent of trees and animal musk. The wolf was still on the bed next to me, his paws just hanging off the side of the mattress. His head resting mostly on his chin. It looked uncomfortable and was too awkward a position to be fake. He was deeply asleep and apparently very certain of my intentions because that was also a very vulnerable pose to sleep in.

I did try to very carefully slip out of bed, not wanting to wake the adolescent wolf but the moment my feet touched the floor his eyes opened. He didn't lift his head, but only watched me with those gorgeous amber-brown eyes that were far too intelligent even for a wolf.

"Well, come on," I said to him.

He lifted his head up, then. His tail gave a single half-wag, like he was eager to join me downstairs but didn't know if I was actually offering. I motioned with my hand and that did it. The wolf understood that I wanted his company and he leapt energetically off the bed. Wolves. Social animals. Whatever purpose he had for being in the bubble of mine, he seemed to have associated me with Pack. And I was okay with that. I did like the wolf. I appreciated his company.

I slid down the ladder to the ground floor and in an instant discovered how the wolf had gotten to the loft the night before. He'd jumped. Jumped fifteen feet straight up. He didn't even hesitate to jump back down again and he managed to land with the same effortless ease I'd seen in werewolves. Like a fall of that distance was no different than hopping off the bed.

"You really are something special, huh?" I said to the wolf.

He didn't respond, beyond giving me a slight sideways glance as he padded away. I stood still a second and just watched the wolf walk up to my guide – still wearing Scott's face – and sit neatly at his feet. Fake-Scott was at the stove, having just placed a fresh log inside. Heat radiated from the iron stove, making me wonder what the temperature was like outside. Surely now that it was light again, the numbing cold of the night before would be burned off. And then I remembered that there was no sun, and wondered if that mattered. Were there even rules in this place?

"Any plans for today?" fake-Scott asked me, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

"I was about to ask you, that," I said. "What are we up to?"

He nodded towards the table and I took a seat. He placed a bowl of breakfast in front of me. Scott then took a moment to open the front door, letting in more light and the crisp, cool scents of the forest – of pine resin, damp soil and wood. A delicious scent that went straight to my head, making me momentarily dizzy but also, for some reason, deliriously happy. This was nice. Outside, a fine mist swirled with the breeze. A harmless, gossamer morning mist.

I created my own universe . . . and did a pretty good job of it.

I smiled.

"I think we need to understand why you fought free of the current to begin with," fake-Scott said. "It's important to know what scared you so badly. Most souls don't stir but yours did and it wasn't by mistake."

"You know, you strike me more as a fisherman than a guide," I stated, the words coming from absolutely nowhere and having nothing at all to do with what we were discussing.

Fake-Scott apparently thought so too. He had been about to sit down but froze mid-sit to reward me with a truly comical expression. Absolute bewilderment. Even the wolf pricked its ears forward and tilted its head to look at me sideways.

"What?" Succinct.

"I mean, I got lost, right? And you're here to get me back. Like I fell out the boat and you're fishing me out of the water."

Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous. It really did but I thought I'd explained myself well enough. Fake-Scott only sighed and sat down.

"Alright," he said. "I'm a fisherman."

I shrugged. He just shook his head.

The bowl of breakfast he'd given me was actually only oatmeal. I detested oatmeal, since the few times I'd actually had it was when my father had not been interested in preparing a real breakfast. He made the stuff in a pot on the stove and what came out was not edible in the slightest. A stiff gray mess that tasted gluey and would sit in my stomach like a lump all through morning classes. Therefore I was understandably leery of what was currently in front of me, and had been pressing the end of my spoon into it making little creases until the oatmeal looked like a moonscape.

"Oh, jeez," fake-Scott muttered, finally noticing what I had been doing. "Try it before making faces at it."

I did, spooning up only enough to say that I was. And, of course, Scott was right. It was good, flavored with just the correct amount of brown sugar to make it delicious but not overly sweet. Fine. I started eating more and ignored the smug look I received from over the table. Also ignored the fact that there didn't appear to be a pantry or anywhere else to store food in the cabin. Where was he getting this stuff? Didn't matter.

"Well?" Scott said, after a few minutes. "Do you have any ideas?"

"About?"

He glared.

"Oh." I put my spoon down. "I don't know. I just . . . I guess I got restless and woke up?"

"You would not have gotten restless, Allison. What happened to you?"

"I died," I shot back. "Could that have done it? A violent death, I mean? I didn't exactly go easy."

That got his attention, but not in the way I thought. He sat forward. "A violent death wouldn't do it, but explain to me. What else was happening?"

I said, "I fought it. I suppose most people do, right? I knew I was dying and I fought it as hard as I could."

"Anything else?" Scott prodded.

No. I thought back, hating the memory but needing to see. I needed to remember those last few seconds, lying in Scott's arms. My heart breaking as I watched his grief. We both knew I couldn't be saved and it hurt him far more than it did me. I'd been scared, fearing the darkness closing in on me. But he'd been stricken. In an agony of loss. I was going away and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"No. I mean, unless you count Scott." It felt weird mentioning Scott with his identical double sitting right in front of me. "Maybe that's it. Is it actually possible? Do you think . . . maybe Scott somehow held me back just enough to pull me off course? I mean, he didn't want me to die. Could he have done it?"

Fake-Scott sighed and leaned back in his chair. He seemed to be considering but after a moment, he shook his head. "No, that's not it. Dammit."

I sighed. "Why does this matter?"

"It matters, Allison, because you did this to yourself. And if we can't figure out _**why**_, then we'll never know _**how**_ to fix it. And you'll sit here until this whole place dissolves into nothingness."

A fresh bolt of fear lanced sharply, pinching around my heart. I turned away, fixing my attention out the door to the bright, sunny forest just outside.

Scott suddenly slapped his hand down, hard, on the table. Startling both me and the wolf. It whined nervously. I only looked back towards him and lifted a single brow. _**What?**_

"What did you want?" he demanded, urgently. "Was there anything you wanted? Something that made you fight death, even though you knew it was right there. You weren't fighting to live, were you? You were only fighting for time. What was it?"

Oh, my . . . I shivered. An actual, full-body tremble. Cold, cold chills shot through my blood. The sensation was so violent that I squeezed my eyes shut against it. As if that would do anything to stop my body from flying into a million shards of ice. But even with my eyes shut tight, to where little whorls and ribbons of color seemed to dance through the dark, I saw it. I saw the razor-edged tip of an arrowhead that gleamed as bright as a star. Or, not a star.

Silver.

Silver arrows.

"I figured it out," I said the words and that icy cold seemed to melt away. "I figured it out. They didn't know. My friends. They don't know. They think the demons are invincible."

The demons. The demon ninjas that swarmed all around us, with the deadly blades and impossible strength.

My eyes sprang open, then, and immediately fixed with Scott's piercing gaze. A slight Alpha-red light was only just starting to glow within them.

"It's the silver," I told him. "It kills the demons."

And my friends had no idea . . .


	10. Chapter 9 - Interlude

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

_**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**__Hi, everyone. Sorry for the short chapter but I've been away and haven't had much time to write. Still, I hadn't posted anything in a while and felt that I really needed to put something up. But don't worry! This isn't just drabble. It's still a CHAPTER._

**Chapter 9**

**INTERLUDE**

* * *

"_Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving."_

– **Albert Einstein**

* * *

My friends needed to know.

They still believed that the demonic ninjas were invincible. My life was over, but theirs were not. And knowing the danger they were in – remembering it – made it hard for me to worry about myself. I was still bound to my friends; so much so that even my impending oblivion didn't seem quite as important. I'd already failed them, in not being able to tell anyone about the silver arrows before I died. I couldn't do it again. They needed me. They had trusted me and maybe, if I was lucky, they believed in me enough to still listen.

Could I do it? Could I _**somehow**_ reach them?

If I couldn't leave this place – this bubble floating in blank nothingness – then how could I do anything?

I looked at fake-Scott and asked him, "Is it possible? Can I go back to them?"

"You've already done the impossible, Allison." He spread his arms wide. "You saved yourself, even if for only a little while. What else is there?"

"I need to go back," I said.

"Yes, you do."

"Can you show me the way?"

Fake-Scott shook his head. "Ah, not me."

"Then who?"

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when the wolf stood up. Head and ears lifted, eyes flashing in the dawn shine spilling in from the door. His dark, charcoal-colored coat glinting with stray strands of flashing silver. I was struck again by how beautiful he was. And by how unsettling those intelligent, knowing eyes were when he fixed them on me. As if he knew something I didn't, but was only just waiting for me to get it, too.

"Are you serious?" I said, not upset with the idea of the wolf's company but . . . "Aren't _**you**_ supposed to be my guide?"

"I am your guide," fake-Scott assured me. "And I'll help you wherever I can."

"But?"

"But I can't leave here," he said. "This cabin, these woods. That's it for me."

My heart sank but Scott wasn't done. He said, "You're not like me. You can leave and the wolf will lead you to wherever you need to go. Just follow the wolf."

Up until that moment I had assumed the wolf and _**him**_ were the same. It was only an assumption but the two were so similar that it didn't seem unreasonable. For the first time, it occurred to me that they both served separate purposes. The shape shifter, the guy who seemed to enjoy mimicking the shapes of those closest to me, was an adviser. His words mattered. But was the wolf my real guide? If he could lead me out of this place, back to my friends or . . . or to wherever, then maybe he was something else. Something important to all of this.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

It didn't matter. Right now, I needed both of them and to do what I had planned I had to trust them. I had to trust that they were being truthful and that was hard for me. I was not a girl who trusted easily, so I had to focus. Keep my head in the game . . .

"Alright," I said.

Scott looked pleased, and relieved. Looking into his eyes, I got the rather unsettling impression that he had been reading my thoughts. As weird as my life – and my death – had gotten, a mind-reader was well within the realm of possibility. Hell, it seemed downright normal next to some of the things I'd experienced.

"So," I prodded. "When do we leave?"

"Whenever you're ready," Scott said. His wolf padded right up to our table and, remaining standing, laid his chin on my knee. He lifted his eyes and offered me the most pathetic look I had ever seen. He wanted to go _**now**_. Was practically pleading with me to get up. Breakfast was over, wasn't it? I glanced at what remained of the oatmeal and felt a shiver of surprise. It was gone. I'd eaten ever bite. Just like the night before, I was ravenously hungry. And that inexplicable hunger ended the moment I was done eating.

I glanced at fake-Scott but he wasn't even looking at me, now. His attention had wandered to some place outside and I sighed.

"Okay," I told the wolf. "Let's go."

It yipped sharply and bound out the open door in two swift bounds.

"Good luck," Scott muttered. "And Allison? Be back before dark."

The warning, and the solemn sincerity in his voice left a bitter taste in my mouth. I swallowed hard and stepped out in the bright, sunless morning sunshine.

The wolf waited for me just outside, pacing restlessly around the side of the cabin and at the sight of me he quickly bound over. I placed my hand on his warm, shaggy shoulder and curled my fingers into his fur. He huffed and pulled forward, dislodging my grip.

We were off.

The cabin door swung shut behind me.


	11. Chapter 10 - Mirror in the Sea

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 10**

**MIRROR IN THE SEA**

* * *

"_Talent hits a target no one else can hit; genius hits a target no one else can see."_

– **Arthur Schopenhauer**

* * *

The morning grew steadily warmer as the wolf and I moved through the forest. The rainy dampness of the day before seemed to have evaporated through the night along with that brutal, biting cold. The gossamer dawn mist that had been so beautiful over breakfast was gone, burned away by the sunlight. Sunshine without any sun. I wasn't sure what to make of that. You would think that if I had created this whole little bubble-universe for myself, it would be identical to the world I was familiar with. And though most things _**were**_ the same – the trees, the clouds, blue skies – it wasn't exactly right.

There was no sun or moon. None.

But on top of that, there was no real life in what should have been a forest teeming with activity. The total lack of any sort of birdcall was downright eerie. The wind whispered through the trees, tossing the canopies and clanking branches. It made it so that this place wasn't entirely quiet, but it was still so unsettling that I couldn't help but think: _this is how horror movies start_.

This was not what a forest sounded like. This wasn't what a forest _**felt**_ like . . . a living, green wood without any life in it.

For his part, the wolf didn't seem perturbed by the unnatural quiet. He paced a few feet ahead, careful not to lose me even though I sensed he would have liked to go faster. I was setting the pace and though I could have hurried a little more, I kept what felt like the right speed. An even, steady stride that would get us where we were going.

I was taking fake-Scott's warning seriously and would be back at the cabin before dark but it was still only just past dawn. There was plenty of time. Although, I did stop to wonder exactly what would happen if I didn't make it back in time. What awful thing lurked in this place when the lights went out?

The crisp, earthy scent of the forest acquired a sharper tang the further we walked. The wolf would stop to tilt his nose up and breathe; short, careful inhales as he scented the air. But we kept moving and after a while, I realized what it was. Salt and water and rock. We were near the sea. I could already begin to hear the rush of the surf over the thunderous rustling of wind through the treetops. The wolf was taking me back to where I'd pulled myself up out of ocean . . . I hoped he didn't expect me to swim out in that. I remembered the strength of that underwater current. Were there actual riptides in a bay? I wasn't sure but whatever was there had pulled me ruthlessly down. The last thing I wanted now was to feel the bitterly cold water close over my head again. I didn't want to drown . . . _**again**_.

Drowning felt so much like dying. Cold and dark and irresistible. It pulled you irrevocably down into an abyss. Both drowning and dying had carried with it a sense of smothering. Of holding my breath, or of being unable to breathe. I'd suffocated twice already. I was not interested in a third time. Just thinking about it made my chest feel tight.

I was afraid.

It was as simple as that. I was scared and fake-Scott's warning about not being caught out here after dark haunted me. He hadn't been joking there, or trying to deceive. Something bad would happen if I wasn't back in time.

We broke through the trees quite suddenly and found ourselves standing on the very edge of the shore. A ribbon of dark, moist sand hardened nearly into a crust from sea salt and the wind. The beach ran smoothly around the bay, following the divide between land and water. The ocean rushed swiftly to-and-fro, beating heavily up onto the shore only to be pulled back by the tide every time. It almost looked like a challenge between the sea and sky. The ocean wanting to rise up, pushing for further with each foamy swell but never succeeding.

The wolf loped eagerly out into the open, his long, swift strides taking him out onto the beach. I watched him pad right up to the edge, just short of where the water could reach him. It didn't take long for sea spray to bead his thick, dark coat with little droplets of glistening crystals. He lifted his head and shook his fur, sending those beads of moisture into the air where they flashed and fired in the bright daytime light.

Lovely. The sight was absolutely enchanting but the wolf wouldn't allow me to stand and watch. There was no time to rest, though I was starting to feel just a little winded. With a slight slant of one ear, he turned and started trotting in the other direction. Following the curve of the bay. I understood that I was supposed to follow but it wasn't hard to spot the wolf's destination. My eyes panned up. Up! Up to the jagged, stony cliffs rising menacingly on either side of the inlet's opening.

The trees up there are exactly what you would expect from plants growing out of rock. They were tough, thorny things. Resilient trees and shrubs that could survive even in the harshest of conditions. Battered by unrelenting winds, hard rain and the cold, cold stone. The cliffs themselves were immense! Monolith-like things where the very edge of them were sharp, jagged knives where whole sections had clearly broken and crumpled to drop down into the sea below.

One thing I knew for sure is that I did not want to go up there!

And I wouldn't have, if that isn't exactly where the wolf was going.

So, I followed. I hiked along the beach, following in the wolf's light tracks. My boots crunching and sliding back with every step. It was a hard walk, and the effort of propelling myself forward made it so that by the time we'd circled around to the stony base of the cliff, my calves were aching. I was also out of breath but I refused to admit to that part. I was fit. I should not have been so readily defeated by a walk along the beach . . .

The hike up the cliff was not as arduous as I'd first imagined. The incline was only just steep enough so that I could feel the burn as I moved steadily higher but not so much so that it became a dangerous trek. For his part, the wolf didn't seem to care about anything beyond reaching the top. He paced easily only a few feet ahead of me, well within sight so that I was never afraid he would lose me if I slowed down. By what I estimated might have been the halfway point, I was ready to stop and rest. Surely a short break wouldn't eat up too much time . . . but even when I voiced the request towards the wolf, the animal didn't even bother twitching an ear. It just kept plodding onward leaving me with the choice to stop without him or keep going.

I opted to keep following.

I estimated that it was maybe noon, or just past then when we finally reached the end of that maddening hike up, up, up. The wolf paused, then, allowing me to slump with relief against the base of a twisted tree. Little leafy-plants grew all around, with stems and leaves both covered in slender little prickles. Spines that stung horribly when touched. I rested with the wolf sitting nearby, panting and turning his nose into the cold wind. I passed the time by pulling those painful little spines out of my fingers and palms . . . I hadn't noticed the plants until I'd dropped down on them.

But they didn't hurt so much coming out as they had going in, so the act of removing them was cathartic. By the time the wolf decided we needed to keep moving, I felt better. Not revitalized but at least a little rested.

The wind up here was fierce. It howled, whirling violently around the tough trunks of trees as if with a driving desire to knock them down! My hair whipped and snapped, painful when it lashed into my eyes. Tired of that, but without any hair-ties, I finally pulled my hair back and tied the whole thing into a knot. A sloppy ponytail but so long as it didn't come undone it was better than letting it fly free.

Finally – finally! – the wolf stopped.

We were there. At the very edge of the monstrous, terrifying cliff.

We were so high that I couldn't really even hear the roar of the surf breaking against the rocks anymore. The wind blew with such force that I was truly worried it would lift me up and knock me straight off the cliff. But the wolf was fearless and padded straight up to the very edge. He peered down, amber-brown eyes shining with interest. I knew that he expected me to do the same, but it seemed like such a suicidal thing to do that I stopped to wonder if I was misreading the wolf's intentions.

What was going on, here?

Trust.

It all came back to trust.

I had to trust the wolf or else all this was for nothing and, in a while, my little bubble-universe would implode and I would blink out of existence. Not dead. Just gone. Forever.

And yes, that scared me more than the image of my body flying through the open air, plummeting down to crash into the ocean so far below. What would happen to me, if I did _**here**_? Again I had to wonder if it were possible to die twice?

I couldn't think of that now. I walked carefully up to the wolf, so that I could stand at his shoulder and, heart in my throat, I leaned forward to peer down off the edge of the world.

Gripped by a sudden and numbing sense of vertigo, the distance seeming infinitely deep from this vantage, I nearly slipped and actually dropped to my knees just to keep from going over. Sharp stones and more prickly plants cut into my palms. My stomach rolled and for some reason, I couldn't avert my gaze. I could not look away, even if it meant I was going to throw up right there.

The wolf paced eagerly back and forth, moving all around my kneeling body and I was scarcely aware of him. Something down below, an eternity away, had caught my attention. The ocean roared and surged, crashing violently up against the cliff face. White foam frothed and the pattern and motion on the water looked very much like lace. A delicate and intricate pattern that was both terrifying and beautiful. As I watched, that random webbing of white cleared outwards. Like a drop of soap dripped into a pail of oily water. A discus of clear, indigo ocean opened up and slowly, as I watched, that deep blue coloring changed to a calmer, mirror-silver. I could see the menacing black cliff-face reflected in that calm pool. And, impossibly, I could see myself in it.

It shouldn't have been possible. It really could not . . . and yet it was.

I was so high up and that circle of motionless water was so small that I should not have been able to pick out details. I should not have been able to see myself, of the dark form of the wolf rising up on its hind legs behind me . . .

But I did. And the image was so sharp and clear, so distinct that I didn't think to question what I was seeing. I spun around, startled and bewildered by what I'd seen just in time to feel two hard, hot paws strike me. Blunt, hard nails stabbed into my upper arm and my chest. Bright eyes glinted with something I couldn't think to guess at and my only thought as I was shoved off the edge of the cliff . . . I was betrayed!


	12. Chapter 11 - Through the Looking Glass

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 11**

**THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS**

* * *

"_The wise man doesn't give the right answers, he poses the right questions."_

– **Claude Levi-Strauss**

* * *

I fell, hurtling through what felt like solid plates of glass as my body shot through the open air. Icy currents of wind grasped at my clothing. Hard, hard air slamming into me as I plummeted; slowing my descent but not nearly by enough to make any sort of difference. So I fell, ruthlessly pushed off a cliff by a wolf I thought I could trust. An animal with bright amber-brown eyes that shone with real intelligence. Something far beyond predatory cunning. Because of that, I was able to believe that I had been betrayed.

The wolf had known exactly what it was doing.

And now I fell, watching as the cold gray water of the ocean roared and surged beneath me. As it grew closer and closer at astounding speed. Unnaturally fast! I should not have been falling this quickly!

_**WHAM-whooooSSSHHHH!**_

Bitter water flooded my mouth. It soaked my clothes, weighing me down. The shock of icy cold paralyzing. I dropped, sinking deeper and deeper into the sea. It was as if the falling didn't stop once I hit. I was still plummeting, only now it was through cold and darkness. No wind, only the weight of the ocean pressing in on me.

Tilting my head back, craning my neck as I searched for the rippling surface where there would be light and air, I saw nothing. This was a darkness unlike anything I had ever experienced. Even at the moment of my death, it had not been as dark as this . . . There was only this sense of immeasurable emptiness all around me and yet, somehow, the bitter cold remained. How was it that I could be consumed, swallowed in absolute nothingness and yet still have something there with me?

The cold.

I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to scream.

But even that was beyond me now. I was frozen inside this. The dark invading every corner and crevice of my being so that there was no room for anything else. I felt myself slipping away. Fading into oblivion but something, a tiny flicker of light remained and it was just enough to keep the darkness from taking me.

Something changed, then.

The void split open and sensation rushed back. Shocking me from the intensity of it and I came back to myself, startled to discover that my fall had become a terrifying, dizzying descent. I was actually hurting through space. Again. Just like when I'd fallen from the cliff, only this time rather than tumbling through the air it felt as if I were falling through solid _**static**_. An ocean's worth of static of power. Something electric that snapped and sizzled, crackling all around me while I remained untouched. Unharmed.

_**Whoomph!**_

I hit!

I struck something solid and it was like slamming into the side of the Earth. The impact so sudden and violent that I imagined myself leaving a crater in the ground. The electric sizzle in the atmosphere evaporated and for the first time since this awful descent began, I could breathe again. Cool, stale air so rich I could taste it invaded my senses. I gulped mouthfuls of it, unaware that I had been starving for it.

I felt only a moment of panic after that, where I flailed and looked wildly around. What new place would I find myself? My feet slipped and slid on a slick floor, while my hands splayed on a cool, hard surface. That's when I discovered that I wasn't standing. I was sitting down.

I was in a chair.

I was at a desk . . .

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was in a classroom. Posters on the walls. A dusty blackboard. Four rows of identical, unoccupied desks. Windows on the far wall illuminated the room in pale, ghostly moonlight.

It was nighttime. How long was I falling?

Didn't matter. I found myself experiencing a moment of perfect stillness as I suddenly realized _**exactly**_ where I was. Somehow, impossibly, I was. I was home! I recognized this classroom. How could I not? I came here every day, sat in this very seat, during fourth period Economics. This was Beacon Hills High.

"Scott!" I shouted, my voice grating harshly. I hadn't used it in a long time, from the sound of it. I pushed my chair back and stood up. My knees didn't tremble. My legs easily supported my weight without any weakness to show for my death. I _**should**_ have been weak. Sick. But I wasn't and I wouldn't question it. Not now.

I rushed to the classroom door and turned the knob.

Nothing.

Of course. At night, these doors would be locked.

I didn't care. Frantic, desperate to be reunited with my friends – I missed them so much! – I tugged and tugged on the door. I beat my fists on it, refusing to give up but that I was getting nowhere. So I took a quick step back, braced myself and then slammed my foot into the door with a powerful round-house kick. Not the most forceful kick for breaking down a barrier, but the spinning motion was wonderful. I wanted to move. I wanted to feel my muscles flex, feel the blood pumping through my veins. To feel alive again! So I spun and lashed out and felt an immensely satisfying thud followed by a pang of disappointment as the door held firm.

I _**had**_ to get out of here!

"Scott!" I cried, grief tightening in my throat. Tears burned. Scalded. "Isaac! Help me!"

I didn't know how long I had, here. I didn't know how long I would be allowed to stay. But my friends needed to know that I was back. Nothing seemed more important at that very second than to find them. I wanted out of this room!

I spun away from the door and ran towards the windows. Through the glass I could see the student parking lot and, beyond that the lacrosse field. There were trees there, but I knew that those eventually opened up to streets and the backyards of houses.

I searched the base of the windows, looking for the latch that would unlock them. Finding it, I tugged hard and the window sprang open. I placed both hands on the cool glass and pushed. The window wouldn't open completely, designed to keep people from breaking into the school that way but by climbing up onto the row of low shelves and going feet-first I found that I could wiggle through. Even then, as skinny as I was I still felt that I had to suck in my belly to manage it. I scraped my back on the windowsill but that didn't matter. I was free and had dropped down to the grass below.

Took only a moment to get my bearings and then took off! Running as quickly as I could, pushing my body for all it was worth. My shoes sank into the grass of the lacrosse field – spongy from a recent rain – but the sense that I didn't have very much time persisted. There wasn't a single doubt in my mind that I wasn't permitted to remain for very long, so I had to hurry. It was part instinct, part sense. I was sure.

There was no time even to pace myself. I just pelted across the wide open field, so that when I burst into the narrow woods on the other side I was already panting. Lungs burning as I gulped air. Stars wheeled overhead. The dark seemed thin, and I realized that even surrounded by trees, lights from the city still diluted the night. I would never get truly dark, here.

My heart hammered.

I slammed through the grasping branches at the edge of the trees and paused, staring left and right. Fenced backyards stretched on seemingly forever in both directions. Not wanting to waste time searching for a way through, I simply vaulted over the chain-link fence directly in front of me and trotted across somebody's yard. Slipped along the side of the house, aware that all the windows were dark and that the family who lived here was most likely asleep. No one would see me. There was a car in the driveway, shining brightly under the shining orange glow of a streetlamp.

I had to stop, then, because something was wrong.

Trying to catch my breath while sweating despite the cool night air, I closed my eyes and focused. Something had changed but I wasn't sure what. And then I felt it again. A tug. Just the faintest little pull, so that it felt like a string were tied around my heart and someone was tugging on it.

No . . .

Despair crawled sickeningly through my body. Gritting my teeth, fighting for strength, I started running again. I pelted down the very centre of the street, my shoes striking the asphalt with bone-jarring thuds. The sounds of my footfalls echoed hollowly off the houses all around. No lights came on in any of them, though how nobody could hear me was mind-boggling.

There!

Just ahead was Scott's house. My eyes found it so quickly, managing to focus so easily because it was the only residence on the street where the windows shone with light. The downstairs was dark, perfectly at rest but on the second floor . . . Scott's room. His lamp was lit, gloriously bright.

"Scott!" I screamed.

My steps faltered as another hard, insistent tug jolted in my chest. This one was almost painfully hard. My heart thudded in protest.

"Scott!"

A shadow moved in front of the window. Familiar but featureless and flat; backlit by light.

"I'm here!" I shouted, waving my arms over my head.

And I _**was**_ right there. Standing at the end of the driveway.

A sudden, violent gust of air nearly knocked me down. I gasped, startled as water started trickling up out of Scott's lawn. Very, very quickly. Water swelled, gushing out of the grass but also up through the tiny cracks in the sidewalk. The scent of salt and the sea filled my head while what appeared to be the ocean started to swirl around my ankles. Rising higher, to my calves and then my hips. Belly. Chest.

"Scott! Scott! I'm here. I'm here . . ."

I could taste saltwater in my mouth. A sharp bitterness. The ocean swept over my shoulders, rising steadily up the length of my throat. I tilted my chin back, struggling to buy myself just a few more seconds.

I saw Scott's bedroom window slide open and a body leaned out as if to look at something. Water swelled and before I could swim, without even giving me a chance to try, the current grabbed my legs. Like a riptide pulling me helplessly down in the cold, dark depths.

The ocean would not be denied . . .


	13. Chapter 12 - They Come When its Dark

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 12**

**THEY COME WHEN IT'S DARK**

* * *

"_I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens."_

– **Woody Allen**

* * *

Coughing and spluttering, trying to breathe through the spray as water slapped against my face and shoulders left no room for me to cry. I wanted to. I wanted to be given the time to sit down and weep, lamenting the injustice of all of this. I had been so close! I made it all the way to Scott's front door and then, like some great cosmic joke I was snatched back. A cruel game.

But at least the sea was quieter, now. I propelled myself forward, one stroke at a time until my feet touched the sandy bottom and then staggered dripping and exhausted onto the beach of my bubble-universe. My prison. Too tired to go further than that, I sat on the hard damp sand for a while and just watched the surf swell and rush the shore. A strangely hypnotic sight. I could have easily fallen asleep to the sound of the sea but as peaceful as it was, I couldn't rest here. I came out of the water remarkably close to the monolith cliff.

This close, essentially sitting right at the foot of it, the cliff was staggering! Immense. The rock was dark, nearly black from moisture at the base but gradually grew lighter the higher it went though it never turned exactly pale. The jagged, menacing rock of the cliff face would always be bleak. Dull. A dangerous place.

The sun would have been setting, had there actually been a sun here. But the sky mimicked the appropriate coloring, staining the sea in brilliant orange shot with wavering lines of deeper gold and rose. I searched the sky for the source of those changes but of course, there was nothing.

The young gray wolf appeared. I saw him trotting down the beach, coming to find me. He must have taken a long time to climb back down from the very top of the cliff but he didn't seem tired at all. Even from a good distance, I could still make out the beautiful amber-gold coloring of his eyes. The light seemed to catch in those eyes, igniting them. Trapping the nonexistent sun inside so that they were lit from within. Glowing unnaturally bright.

I sighed and faced the ocean as the wolf came up to me. He sighed, too, and sat down. I could smell him, animal musk and warm fur. A comforting scent. I was half-tempted to bury my face in his shoulder and shed those tears I held inside.

I didn't do that.

"You didn't have to shove me off a cliff," I said to him.

The wolf slanted one ear in my direction.

"Come on," I said. "We need to get back before it gets dark."

The wolf huffed and to me, it sounded like an affirmative. He walked sedately at my side as I led the way off the beach. The difference was startling. Under the trees, with the thick canopy of leaves and intertwined branches, it was already night. Looking straight up I could see the sunset colors peeking through but it was very, very dark on the ground. Nerves prickled up my spine. A sharp sensation.

I realized quite suddenly that fake-Scott/Isaac never specified if it was the night or just the darkness that was dangerous, here. Technically the "sun" was still setting. But down here . . . you wouldn't know it. And I thought, just for a second, that there were noises rustling the carpet of leaves on either side of me. Was there something following? Even the wolf seemed very aware of the noises so I knew they were real.

I let my gaze travel to either side of us, scanning the trees. But of course I saw nothing. I told myself it was because there was nothing to see . . . what could possibly be out there? The shadows deepened in the spaces between the wide trunks. Bushes and foliage tangling in the shadows, so that the eerie daytime forest became downright frightening now that it was night. A stiff wind whipped through my hair, tugging at my damp clothes. Chilling. A low, haunting moan came out of the darkness and as nervous as I felt I couldn't tell if it were only the wind or something else making that sound.

The wolf whined and quickened his pace, pulling slightly ahead of me.

I copied him, moving faster too until fear and the warning not to be caught out after dark had me breaking into a full run. I raced through the trees, nearly blind and only just managing to see the trunks of trees with a split-second to spare before colliding with them. One wrong move and I would break my face slamming headlong into a tree! The wolf pelted alongside, dodging in and out. Drawing nearer to me, then further and then near again.

This was stupid! What was I so afraid of?

Noises! _**That's**_ what scared me.

The wolf and I were racing through a nearly pitch black forest at what could only be described as breakneck speeds and yet, somehow, the noises were keeping up! That damned rustling; wide paws disturbing the carpet of leaves coating the ground . . . inches deep in some places. Leaves and branches and overgrown ferns. Lots of things to catch and tug and make noise should something pass through.

We had to get out of the woods! The wolf and I, we needed to get back to the cabin.

We would be safe there, wouldn't we?

Yes.

Something howled; a sound that shook the trees. A furious yowling somewhere behind me. It sounded _**close**_ but rather than the spike of renewed fear I half-expected to feel, something else raised its head inside of me. Challenge. A snippet of the familiar Hunter confidence I thought I'd lost after the shock of my death. And it was glorious! A welcome emotion so beautiful I almost burst into tears. I felt almost like myself again and yes . . . I'd missed me.

I might have exaggerated that confidence, or else my ability to handle whatever monsters were chasing us, but at that exact second I was so pleased with myself that rather than keep running I actually stopped moving. I drove the heel of one boot into the earth, using a combination of momentum and strength to spin myself around.

My eyes saw nothing but I felt the slight stir in the air as something hurtled violently past. My ears rang from the guttural snarls of the beast.

The wolf – my wolf – howled a warning. He seemed terrified, barking and yowling in a way that made it seem as if he were calling me back. _"Come on, run!"_ he seemed to be saying. The fear in his lupine voice was enough to make me reconsider my decision to face this invisible foe but it was too late now.

Darkness coalesced directly in front of me. For a moment I thought it was a fog, or a mist but this thing moved as if it were alive. It spread apart and circled around _**against**_ the direction in which the wind was blowing. The darkness wasn't simply too thick. It appeared nearly solid.

The wolf howled again.

I spun around, startled but not yet truly afraid and saw that there was more than one darkness. More shadows wavered, like little people darting in and out from between the trees. No eyes. No features. No limbs, either. I saw no arms or legs but I did get the distinct impression that they were bodies about the size of small children. Because _**that**_ wasn't unnerving at all . . .

I moved to place my back up against the wide, thick trunk of a tree. Decided I would have loved to have my knife with me, or my bow. A weapon of some kind but I was okay. These creatures were small, and though I knew enough not to judge an opponent by its size I didn't feel too threatened by these child figures.

One leaped out from behind my tree, chattering and clicking. It paused right in front of me, twitching its head in a distinctly bird-like manner. It was a creepy image. Behind it, more creatures swarmed. Dozens of them, tiny and black and nearly invisible in the surrounding darkness. They were everywhere, closing in on me in menacing little pairs, threes and fours. The closest creature, the one by itself opened a wide, oval mouth bristling with stark white teeth. It screamed!

I screamed back, startled by that noise and the awful sight of teeth. Teeth like bristles, rather than fangs. They were sharp and like the spines that sometimes grew out of the leaves of weeds.

I heard the wolf snarl. Another creature, further away, hissed in return.

_**Where**_ was my wolf? I couldn't see him! I couldn't tell if he was near or not.

The child-creatures continued to click and chatter to themselves and each other. A perverse pleasure in their sharp voices. I backed a little further up against the tree guarding my back and tried to intimidate the little monsters by straightening my spine and trying to look bigger. They erupted in fits of giggles.

The nighttime temperature was dropping quickly. Already the air felt cool as ice against my skin and my clothes, not fully dried after my plunge into the ocean had frozen stiff. Just like on my first night here. The night would grow bitterly cold and I got the feeling that it would only continue getting colder as the night progressed.

Strange, how the cold – more than the creatures – frightened me enough to remind me that I needed to get back to the safety of the cabin. I could fight the monsters but I didn't want to _**freeze**_.

Fingers snared my wrists. I jerked, trying to pull away but the grip was brutally powerful. Both wrists. I turned my head, looking left and right and saw that my wrists were encased in oily black ribbons. Not hands at all but something like tentacles and they stung horribly against my skin.

"H-help!" I shouted. "Help me! Wolf? Where are you?"

The tentacles tugged, jerking my whole body with force enough to slam me back against the solid tree trunk. My shoulders nearly pulled out of their sockets as my arms were forced back, holding me. Immobilizing me against the tree. The child-creatures chattered excitedly and crowded forward. Confident now that I was stuck . . . they moved with all the eager anticipation of children who just saw a puppy. It was terrifying! I kicked out with both feet, trusting my weight to the strength of those tentacles and screamed as my shoulders scalded in agony. They were twisted too far back to support the full weight of my body like that, and for a second I thought they might break!

The creatures swarmed all around, that awful noises they made pounding in my head. Where they'd had no limbs before, they now had arms and hands with evil little fingers and sharp nails. They clawed at my clothes. Tearing and ripping the fabric. Nails scratched against my skin, scrapping like hard fingernails on my stomach and my legs. I screamed again, cursing my stubbornness.

I could have kept running and been safely back at the cabin by now, but I just had to stop and show myself how brave I was. Fearless Allison Argent! Would my father have made an error like this? No. No, he had nothing to prove. He would have known better . . .

The child-creatures multiplied, born from the darkness they were unnumbered. Hundreds upon hundreds of skinny little bodies crawling like ants through the trees. Hissing and spitting and making those unnatural little clicking sounds.

Thousands upon thousands!

Fingers and nail dug into my body, tearing at my clothes and ripping the flesh beneath.


	14. Chapter 13 - Save Yourself

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 13**

**SAVE YOURSELF**

* * *

"_Nobody can hurt me without my permission."_

– **Mahatma Gandhi**

* * *

My head filled with the scent of my own blood. I could taste it in my mouth. Worst than the pain, though, worst than the fear and the taste and smell of burnt metal stinging my senses, was the feel of those hard little fingers. They were everywhere! The creatures swarming like locusts. Climbing up and down the towering trunks of trees all around me, trotting eagerly over the ground. Featureless, phantom demon-children with their oval mouths open wide. Stark white teeth bristling like the tiny spines you would sometimes see on the weed growing in the yard.

Those little fingers and sharp but tiny nails were nowhere near as lethally dangerous as the claws of a werewolf. A wolf would have reduced me to strips of dripping flesh by now. These creatures had neither the strength nor the ability to work quite that quickly. Their nails ripped at my clothing and cut the skin beneath, but slowly. Each hard scrape of their nails only peeling back a little bit of skin at a time and it was by far the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced. _**Nothing**_ could compare to this moment. And they were relentless! My stomach burned, scalding with pain as the child-monsters continued to dig into me. The flesh was raw and bloody, now, so that it felt as if someone were pouring pots of boiling water on my stomach. Burning me alive!

But through all of this I still fought. Not a panicked struggle, either, which I would be immensely proud of later. Right at that moment I focused every ounce of strength towards freeing myself. The wolf still howled and barked, from somewhere in the icy cold dark but I didn't know if he were fighting to help me or if he'd been captured too.

So I fought. What choice was there?

Unarmed, I had to rely almost entirely on my own physical strength . . . which seemed pathetically inconsequential against the swarm of little bodies crowding too close. And with my arms twisted almost completely back and the burn in my shoulders as they strained to pop their sockets . . . it was hard to move. Hard to do anything, no matter how badly I might have wanted to save myself.

I screamed at the little monsters, kicking out with my feet in the hopes of driving them back a little bit. At least enough to stop their incessant clawing at my belly long enough so that I could breathe! But there were too many of them. The dug into my stomach as if trying to disembowel me – determined to rip straight through no matter how long it took them.

Another furious, violent snarl from the wolf and more excited screeching from the monsters.

This was . . . this was stupid! I was going to die here; my insides gouged out because I was too scared to do the one thing I knew would free me. It would hurt, certainly, but no more than what was already being done. Could I do it?

Yes.

Closing my eyes in anticipation, I very quickly and deliberately dropped to my knees . . . effectively dislocating both shoulders.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

I screamed, excruciating pain blossoming fast and hard between my shoulder blades, down the length of my spine and up to the base of my skull. My whole body trembled with static numbness, only the hurt was so potent that it shot through that numbing feeling forcing me to experience every second of what I'd done to myself.

But, even as I whimpered and tears streamed down my face I saw that my tactic had worked. The creatures, startled, had flinched quickly back from me. They were perfectly silent now, without any chatter or whistling or screeching. They had no eyes, or none that I could see, but if there were I would have thought they'd be gaping at me. Unable to believe my gall.

Better by far than the child-monster's retreat was that the tentacles pinning me to the tree so that I was helpless to stop myself from being mauled, had released my wrists. My arms hung limply down, and I had no ability to even move my fingers but I was freed!

And because I was no longer trapped, neither was the wolf. It hadn't occurred to me until right that second that the wolf, who I once believed was connected to my guide in the cabin who liked to look like people I knew, might have actually been more closely connected to _**me**_. We were bound so closely that he had actually become trapped the moment I, myself, could no longer move.

He raced to my side and then crouched defensively down, with his belly just brushing the carpet of bloody leaves of the forest floor. He snarled; a wet, predatory sound that was very simply terrifying. His teeth were bared, lips pulled fully back to expose them. Sharp white fangs that could crunch through muscle and bone, teeth designed to rip and rend flesh as if it were paper . . . the monsters hesitated. They had the numbers to simply swarm us but they held back. Watching the wolf. Quietly.

"Clear us a path," I choked out, fighting to get the words right through the pain.

The wolf allowed a slight flick of one ear to let me know he'd heard and understood. And then stepped forward. His paws soundless on the ground. His warning growls coming in one long, continuous rumble of sound pulled straight up from his chest. He was _**not**_ kidding around and wanted to make sure the monsters understood it.

Without thinking, I placed my hands on the ground to steady myself as I rose to my feet and felt an immediate bolt of startled confusion. Pain still shot through my body, ripping like fire over my nerves but my hands and arms and . . . I'd healed. In the space of a few seconds, my body had repaired the damage I did to myself and the bones in my shoulders just slipped right back to where they belonged.

Because I was already dead? Or was there some other reason?

It didn't matter so much right then. I was better and the creatures were growing bold again. The bravest of them would dart in and tap the wolf on his shoulder or his hip. The wolf would spin, teeth bared and jaw snapping to rip at the little creatures but each time the managed to scramble safely back just in time to avoid him.

A few made squeaking noises that sounded like they were egging each other on. _**Come on, do it again!**_

"Ignore them!" I commanded the wolf. The nighttime temperature had plummeted while we were caught, and what had felt like icy cold before was growing steadily worse until it wasn't hard to imagine the bitter, brutal cold of outer space was descending on us. If the creatures didn't kill us, the temperature would. We had to get back to the cabin. The only safe place to be at night.

"Run!" I commanded the wolf. "Hurry, let's go!"

The wolf didn't need any more encouragement. He kicked off with his hind legs and bound straight through the mass of children-creatures barring our way. They tumbled over, shrieking and howling with fright and indignation. I took off, ignoring my fears and my weakened body. I ran after the wolf, my feet flying over the ground with a strange sort of confidence. Not once did I slip or catch in a hole. Dips in the earth, grasping branches and the slap of wet leaves now frozen solid.

Terrible noises erupted from behind. The creatures, now outraged at our escape, were giving chase! I didn't do anything as stupid as look back, but I didn't need to. In my mind I could see them. Hundred upon thousands of little black figures racing through the trees. A tide of bodies so thick that there was no space between them to fit even one more. Could it actually be? Millions of them?

I could see the forms closing in on either side of me, and movement in the trees ahead. All racing to cut us off, to trap us. Closing to make sure we never made it to the cabin. They would descend on us and, with a cruel slowness, they would rip us apart. The wolf had the speed to just power forward and leave me behind but he didn't do that. He stayed, racing only a few feet ahead of me and I was running flat out! Pelting through the dark with a wolf that refused to leave me behind. My heart swelled with gratitude, even as my mind worked feverishly to come up with some sort of plan. Come on! All I needed was an idea. Even a ghost of an idea but I was coming up with nothing. No plan.

The silver, icy wink of stars had begun to change color. Even in this nightmarish place, was that even possible? They'd shifted to become a bright, blazing yellowish that made it look as if the constellations were on fire! What was this?

I slammed into a tree, knocking myself nearly senseless. Pain flared briefly, but it was nothing compared to the agony of yanking my shoulders out of their sockets and because of that I was better able to come out of it than I would have otherwise. I looked quickly around, momentarily afraid that even a few seconds lost was enough to have the creatures swarming all over me. I braced myself for their fingers and evil little nail digging into my skin but . . . nothing.

They were gone.


	15. Chapter 14 - Sanctuary

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 14**

**SANCTUARY**

* * *

"_Don't be afraid of your fears. They're not there to scare you._

_They're there to let you know that something is worth it."_

– **C. Joybell C.**

* * *

I was freezing, my hair turning white with frost. My hands and feet were like blocks. I couldn't feel my toes or fingers anymore, though the very tips still managed to burn with heat. A scalding pain that was only barely felt. My clothes, still damp from the ocean were now frozen to my body. Cardboard stiff and very heavy, holding the icy chill right up against my skin. It really was as if the bitter cold of space were descending, falling like a sheet out of the sky to blanket the forest in a black vacuum.

Even breathing had become painful. Each inhale drawing icy air deep into my body, filling my lungs with cold. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision as I stumbled weakly through the trees. Icy ferns, sticks and branches coated in crystals caught on the laces of my shoes. The hem of my pants. Slowing me down. Tripping me.

The wolf paced stiffly alongside, his thick coat of fur keeping the cold from his body for longer so that he wasn't nearly as frozen as I was. But even he was slowing down. His head held low, with his vulnerable ears slanted back. His nose twitched horribly and I could just imagine how it must be hurting. Even his feet seemed sore, as he walked more delicately than normal. The tough pads of his paws scraped raw on the hard earth. The ground frozen solid. Hard as concrete under my boots.

My vision continued to blur with tears, and I blinked again. My lashes stuck together, forcing me to uncross my arms and rub at my eyes. My breaths puffed smoky wafts of white mist.

Peering tiredly, weakly through the trees ahead of us I could see those strange yellowish stars. They were low on the horizon. At first I thought that they were lights from the cabin but the longer I walked the more sure I became that those "stars" were not coming from the cabin at all. They appeared to be moving _**away**_ from us. The closer we got, the more they withdrew. A stupid game of you-can't-catch-me. But I kept moving, placing one foot in front of the other and tried to breathe despite the stinging glacial air.

Furious screeches came out of the darkness and I dreaded the thought that those tiny, child-creatures might return. I would not survive another assault. I would try and fight but I didn't have the strength for it anymore. I was too cold. Too beaten. The front of my shirt was torn ragged, blood soaked into the cotton. My belly ached but that was the only good thing about the hellish cold pressing into my skin. It numbed the hurt. Those cuts and scratches and peeled skin did not ache as badly as I thought they should.

I was following the wolf through the darkness. Knowing he was there was the only thing that kept me from just sitting down and going to sleep. I still didn't know if it was actually possible for me to die, here, or what would happen to me if I did . . . but this was not something I wanted to find out. I died once. No matter what happened to me from here, I just didn't want to have to do it again.

Finally – finally! – those strange yellow stars winked out. I lifted my eyes to find a warm, golden shine peeking through the trees. The wolf whined longingly, showing that we'd made it to the cabin but he did not rush ahead. He stayed faithfully by my side, directing my steps with little nudges. He kept me going in a straight line. The front door creaked open as we approached and Scott stood there, bathed in warm yellow light. He didn't step out to greet us, or to help me make those final few steps though even in my exhaustion I could see that he wanted to. He watched the wolf and I come closer, struggling through the hellish cold and pitch black and I could have sworn his eyes gleamed with pale, turquoise lights.

He might not have come outside, but he did hold out his arms.

I stumbled gratefully into his embrace, shivering as if I were going to fly apart. My body so cold that the warmth of his body felt too hot. No matter. I let him hold me, just needing the simple contact after the horrors in the woods. The wolf whined low and stumbled into the house. Collapsed with relief in front of the woodstove. Heat radiated out. Blisteringly hot against my skin. Heavenly.

Scott gently guided me into the safety of the little cabin, and kicked the door closed behind us. Shutting out the cold. I was seated at the table and watched dazedly as he moved to the stove and stuck a few more heavy sticks inside. Building up the fire for his two frozen companions. I appreciated it. The cabin quickly heated to a scalding temperature but I didn't care. I wanted Scott to throw logs in there. Whole trees. I wanted him to set the walls on fire! Anything to drive this deadly chill out of my body. I wanted to feel warm again. I was frozen so deeply, so deep down inside that I didn't think I would ever be warm again.

"I did warn you to be back before dark," he said to me.

I nodded.

Scott sighed and placed a plate on the table beside me. "Try to eat."

"I want to sleep," I told him. And I did. My gaze wandered up to the loft where I knew my bed was. The heavy warmth of my sheets. The firmness of the mattress. The soft dark of an unlit room, where I could just close my eyes and rest a while. Pure bliss. At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more.

"Try and eat a little bit," Scott prodded. "We need to rebuild your strength. And then you can rest but you need food, Allison."

Food. Right.

I tried to look see what was on the plate but my lids fell closed. I slumped in my chair, almost passing out. My mind drifted and a part of me thought that Scott would shove my shoulder. Prod me awake but he didn't. Nothing touched me. It was so quiet in the cabin! I could hear the crackle and snap from the fire. The loud _**pop!**_ as the heat undid knots in the wood. The brush of fur as the wolf settled down to rest. Even the slight, nearly imperceptible sound of fake-Scott's breaths. A whisper of noise that was more an awareness than any actual sound. He was breathing and in the stillness, I only though I was hearing it.

Just like that, I started awake. My body jumping as my brain snapped back to consciousness.

I looked around. Scott was staring at me, a slight smile playing over his face. "It looked as if you'd fallen asleep."

I'm sure it did. I hadn't, though. Not really.

Scott motioned towards the plate of food again, insisting that I at least try and eat. I glanced at it without much interest and as worn out as I was, found myself actually startled by what was there. A pork chop, buttery mashed potatoes and a side of green beans. It looked delicious! It also looked completely random.

"Where are you getting this stuff?" I demanded, scanning the cabin walls for anything even resembling a pantry. Other than a shelf stacked with bowls and plates, and a cast iron pan sitting on the stove there was nothing else. The oil lamp that had been on the wall the night before was moved, so that it now illuminated the ladder going up into the bedroom loft. The other lamp was still strategically placed on the table. The two square windows, positioned on either side of the front door were again just pits of blackness. Voids.

I shivered at the memory of what was out there. The things kept out only by a closed door, wooden walls and panes of glass. Monsters. And the bitter, consuming cold of space. So cold I would imagine the stars winking out. Great spheres of ignited gases billions of light years away, unable to keep their fusion cores burning. Sparkling silver, immense suns turning to blocks of blue ice. The mere idea was enough to chill me straight through. I didn't want to think of it. I didn't want to imagine what was going on outside right that second, as I sat gradually defrosting in the warm light with the buttery scent of my dinner tempting me to eat and be happy. Get strong again.

I certainly didn't want to think that the monsters might be stepping right up to the cabin. That they might be pressing their little bodies into the door. Tapping with their hard little fingers, asking to be let in . . .

"What happened out there?" I asked, softly. Unaware that I'd spoken out loud until Scott responded.

"The darkness brings horrors," he said. "I told you to be back before night. I told you not to take the chance of being caught outside after dark."

"Yes," I said. "But what were they? Demons?"

I was in a sort of afterlife, wasn't I? Demons sounded plausible.

"Not demons," Scott assured me. "Shadow beings that live in the void outside. When darkness falls over this little world, they can slip through the fragile barrier separating this world from their own."

He punctuated his explanation by nudging my plate of food even closer. Eat, Allison!

I sighed and picked up the fork. Stuck one of the green beans and popped it in my mouth. Almost immediately, I felt a swell of warmth driving the icy cold from my blood. Strength returning to me, just as Scott promised. I eagerly took another bite, if only to feel that heat again. It felt good. A heady sensation like _**life**_ coming back.

From the space in front of the woodstove, the wolf yawned wide and then lay his head down on outstretched paws. He closed his eyes, shutting out their lovely amber-brown shine. He was as tired as I was, only he didn't appear to need any sort of nourishment. Just sleep.

"I don't understand," I remarked after eating a little more. My stomach cramped, demanding to be fed but I needed answers and fake-Scott was watching me, as if waiting for me to keep talking. "You told me that outside this little bubble-universe we're in, all that's there is non-existence. How could _**anything**_ be coming from there if nothing can exist in that void?"

He smiled at that. "You misunderstood. It's true that we are essentially floating in a sea of nothingness but there is something else out there, Allison. The river. The current. It's that glimmering stream of light you fell out of, and it's still there. Very, very close in fact. The space between the outside wall of this bubble and the very edge of that stream would look like only a few feet were you able to see it. And in that small gap, there is just enough power of existence sparking back and forth for non-existence itself to begin to manifest. There's life there and _**that**_ is how they're getting in."

"Are you serious?" I glanced at the wolf, instinctively turning to him for comfort but he was asleep. My gaze shot to the empty black that was all I could see through the windows. "Are you actually trying to make me believe that non-existence can manifest itself?"

"Yes," Scott said. "It can, and it does. When it's dark, they slip inside and will hunt you to no end. Now you see? You have to be back here before nightfall, Allison. Don't get caught outside after dark."

Yes, now I saw. Now I understood, even if I didn't understand it completely.


	16. Chapter 15 - Ethan

_***Of course, it goes without saying that Teen Wolf, the story and all related characters belong to the writers, cast, crew and production team of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled Teen Wolf. This was written for fun and solely for the enjoyment of other fans***_

**Chapter 15**

**ETHAN**

* * *

"_It's a cruel and random world, but the chaos is so beautiful!"_

– **Hiromu Arakawa**

* * *

Dawn came too soon.

I lay, warm and sleepy and wrapped snugly in sheets that were starting to feel so familiar to me. As if this were really my bed, brought from home to make my stay here more comfortable. Better than that, better than watching sunlight spill through the window to pool like molten, liquid gold on the floors of the loft was the surety that no matter what was going on out there . . . I was safe. So long as I stayed inside the cabin, no one would hurt me.

But I couldn't stay in here. As much as I longed to just roll over, pull the sheets up to my chin and go back to sleep, I knew that I needed to return to the cold gray ocean at the end of this forest. I had to try again, return to the living and see if this time, I could make contact with my friends. I wasn't done with them, and they still needed my help.

So as much as I really didn't want to, I threw back the covers and rolled stiffly out of bed. My body still sore and aching from the beating it took the night before.

The wolf had spent the night sleeping on the bed with me, just as he'd done on the first night and now shot me a reproachful glance as I accidently kicked him.

"Oh, you," I muttered to the wolf. "Don't look at me like that. I hardly touched you."

The wolf huffed, expelling air out through his nostrils. He let his head flop back down.

I smiled and padded on bare feet to the single small window. From this vantage, on the second story of the cabin the whole world was sunlight and forest. A wall of trees in a million different shades of living green swayed in the wind. Leaves rustling so loudly that I could hear the roar of them even through the glass. Light grew steadily brighter as the dawn became day and the sky deepened to a solid clear blue. There were no clouds. Along with the absence of a sun and moon, I was starting to think clouds didn't exist in this world either. I hadn't seen any since pulling myself out of the ocean that first day.

I turned away from the window and sat back down on the bed. Winced a little as the aches flared little sparks of fire through my body. The wolf lifted his head and fixed me with a sharp look, but I ignored him. I took the bottom edge of my sweater in trembling fingers, took a deep breath for courage and lifted my shirt up to see the damage done to my belly the night before. Hoping that it had healed while I slept but if the rough pain tearing at my abdomen was any indication, it was still there.

I was right.

But the damage wasn't as bad as my wild imagination had conjured for me. I half-expected to find seeping, bloody strips of ravaged flesh. I braced myself, afraid of what I would see. Instead, though there were huge areas of clawed and stripped skin, all of it had scabbed over during the night. The skin was reddened and a little swollen around the edges, and some of the scab had cracked a little while I was sleeping but altogether . . . it wasn't so bad.

I let my shirt drop and turned to the wolf.

He was resting his chin on my arm, looking up at me with an unreadable expression. That was great fun, given that I usually had no trouble at all understanding what he was thinking.

"Let's go," I said. "We want to be on our way before it gets too late. I don't think either of us wants a repeat of last night so we have to hurry."

The wolf blinked agreeably and bounced off the bed. Tail wagging, he loped to the opening in the floor and jumped down. I followed, opting to use the ladder rather than chance a fifteen foot drop. I could feel the front of my shirt rubbing against the scabs on my belly, and the scabs tugging uncomfortably at the skin they were attached to. I felt like a surgery patient, being so careful when I moved so as to not risk pulling my stitches. I didn't want my scabs to break. I was healing.

I really would have preferred to just go back to bed.

But I was hungry and I still had a job to do.

So I quickly slid down the ladder and nearly stepped on the wolf who had apparently decided that standing right at the bottom was a good place to wait for me. I turned to find Scott had already laid out my breakfast and was leaning casually in the sunshine spilling in through the open door. Only it wasn't Scott I saw when our eyes met.

It was Ethan.

One of the twins, anyway, and I didn't think it was Aiden. Tall, built and devilishly handsome. Ethan was strong and confident but he lacked his brother's more aggressive swagger. The boy standing in front of me was definitely Ethan. Only he wasn't really . . .

"I really wish you'd stop doing this," fake-Ethan said, spreading his arms to show off his new shape.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," I said. "Besides, are you sure I'm actually doing anything? At what point was my mind directed towards the twins? I haven't thought about them _**at all**_!"

"You don't have to be," he said. "You've been fixated on the pack. You're thinking about your werewolves and . . . ah, hell. Here I am."

I shook my head, unsure of what to make of his very sudden change in shape and took a seat at the table. Whatever my guide looked like didn't matter as much as my certainty that he wouldn't let me leave the cabin before I'd eaten my breakfast. He hadn't let me go to bed the night before either, no matter that I was practically falling asleep in my chair until I'd finished my dinner. A part of me was tempted to make a fuss and let fake-Ethan forbid me from leaving the cabin, if only so that I didn't have to go out today.

Fortunately, breakfast was simple. Just two toast sitting on a plate, with a bowl of grape jelly for taste. I slathered jam on one slice of perfectly browned toast and took a bite. Strength washed through me, just as it had last night. Just like it did every time I ate. By this point, I'd made up my mind that the food I was being given was exactly what it looked like. Sustenance times one hundred. I didn't need bread and stews; it only looked like that's what I was eating. I was being given whatever it was my . . . spirit? Yes, whatever it was I needed to keep myself strong now that I was dead.

Ethan sat at the table with me, seeming happy just to be spending time. He did give me a once-over and I knew he was looking to make sure I was alright after being caught outside after the dark only hours ago. I was fine. Emotionally, I was shaking inside but physically my body was repairing itself so I was okay.

The wolf paced out the open the door and flopped to his side on a carpet of fallen leaves, perfectly comfortable out there now that it was day.

"Do you know why I was jerked back here so fast, when I crossed over to the real world last time?" I asked, question directed towards Ethan.

The boy shrugged and leaned back in his chair. Making himself comfortable.

"Because you were out of time," he said. "This world pulls you back in for two reasons. The first is that night is falling _**here**_ and you need to come back."

"And the other?"

"You'll be drawn back in if you run out of strength over there. You may feel solid when you're in the world, Allison, but you're no more substantial than smoke when you're there. Run out of strength and you don't have what it takes to hold yourself together anymore. You'll float away . . . in a sense."

I shivered.

Wonderful. Just one more reason to be afraid to leave this cabin.

I finished my first toast quickly, and then picked up the second slice. "Can I leave with this?"

Ethan looked surprised by the question. He said, "Sure. Why not?"

"Great," I stood up "I'll eat this on the way. And I promise to be back before dark this time."

_**Long**_ before dark. I'd learned my lessons and had no interest in a repeat of last night. The little demon-children-creatures could go torture themselves. I would be safely back in the cabin by the time they started swarming the forest.

"Watch yourself, Allison," Ethan said to me as I trotted out the door.

The wolf leapt to his paws the moment he saw me and without a word or gesture exchanged between us, we headed out into the trees.

I jogged through the woods, fast enough to be making good time while the wolf loped eagerly alongside. It was a wonderful and exciting feeling, to be running with a wolf through the damp green forest with the sharp scents of pine resin and soil and the sunlight warm on my shoulders, though the air was still morning cool and the lightest puffs of white mist blossomed with every breath. Condensation beaded on leaves and swaths of moss felt springy adding just a little extra bounce to my steps while I ran. I wished there were birdcalls, but of course there were none. The forest was silent, save for the rustle of leaves in the wind and the persistent drip-drip of a forest after the rain.

The wolf and I made remarkable progress today.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before the scents of the woods changed to the sharper tang of salt and water. The whoosh of wind-tossed leaves became the roar of the ocean.

We slipped free of the trees and paused on the beach, my shoes kicking up the salt-crusted sand a little. The wolf paced a few steps forward and then turned to look at me from over his shoulder. Eyes shining, tail wagging.

What was I waiting for?

I smiled at him and headed for the black, menacing, monolithic cliff suspended over the rolling gray waters of the ocean. The climb up was slower because of the incline. I could not have run it, no matter how fit I thought I was and I needed to preserve some strength for the crossing so I walked. The wolf, too, I noticed padded sedately beside me rather than rushing ahead or whining impatiently for me to hurry up. While we hiked, the sunshine growing warmer and warmer as the day progressed, I took out the piece of toast I'd brought with me and munched on it.

Strength, Ethan said. I would need my strength . . .

Because of the speed with which we'd crossed the stretch of forest to the ocean, it was far earlier by the time we made it to the top of the cliff than it had been the first time we came here. With no sun, there was no real way to measure time but I felt that it would only be around midday. Noon or just before that. The first time the wolf brought me here, it had been well into the afternoon leaving me no time at all to cross over and accomplish anything. It hadn't helped that no one had thought to warn me I would have to go over the side of cliff, plummet into a mirror in the sea and that I would almost literally slam into the Earth to get back to the world of the living.

But I was ready this time.

It still scared me, standing at the very edge of an staggering, mind-numbing drop but at least I knew what to expect from here. I knew what to do.

So I stood at the edge, balancing but ready to let myself fall as I stared down.

Down. Down! DOWN!

And, just like the first time, the cold gray waters split open and up from the depths emerged a glowing silver discus. The mirror.

I closed my eyes. Shaking. Afraid of the fall – if I were still alive, a fall of this distance would have killed me – even though I knew I would be okay.

"Can you come with me?" I asked the wolf. "Are you able?"

He whined and gently placed his nose in the palm of my hand. Nudged me a little bit in what felt like a reassuring gesture. I nodded. Swallowed hard and closed my eyes. Spreading my arms out, fingers curled into fists, I leaned forward and gave my weight to the wind . . . I fell.


End file.
